A few thoughts on my morning
[o]
I really think that office e-mail should not be used to promulgate chain mail, no matter how thought provoking, humorous, or heart-warming. And, let me say this, especially not a chain mail full of "Chinese proverbs about money" that ends "This Chinese proverb brings luck. It originated from The Netherlands." Warms my cockles so much I just want to reach out and touch somebody. Hard.
If anybody would like a black cat, I'm just about willing to give the little fucktard away. A warning, though: For all his cute cuddliness, he will wake you up at 3am by sticking his nose in to your moustache and loudly breathing/purring on your upper lip until you turn away. He will then do it again. And again. If you should pull the blankets over yourself, he will wait patiently until you get too hot and have to come up for air. At which time he will return his nose to its place in your moustache. If he cannot find your moustache, he will lick whichever part of you is exposed, including knees, hands, arms, shoulders, cheeks, and hair. If you move, at all, he will yell loudly in joy at his achievement. And return to licking. If he should happen to walk off the bed (as he did this morning), or you should gently push him off the bed (as has happened other mornings) he will spring back up to greet you with a happy little shout in your face, expressing his enjoyment of the game you two are now playing. And then he will go looking for your moustache. Should you manage to completely thwart him by cowering under your blanket despite the uncomfortable heat, he will go find a dresser, window, poster, or steel drum that has magically appeared next to your pillow, and practice his version of Inagaddadavida until you reach out from your hidey-hole to take a swipe at him. He will lick whichever appendage has entered his airspace.
If you squirt him with a water bottle, he will run away. He will come back just as you drift off to sleep.
You may well give in to his demands and feed him. This is the wrong thing to do. Because once you go back to sleep, he will think, "Gee, my bowl looks so lonely only three-quarters full, it needs to be all full. DADDDDDDDYYYYYYYYY!" and it will start all over again.
The twenty hours of the day that are not between 3am and 7am, he is a walking teddy bear, the sweetest, most loving animal I've ever had. And that's what's saved him so far. But, really, damn.
I really think that office e-mail should not be used to promulgate chain mail, no matter how thought provoking, humorous, or heart-warming. And, let me say this, especially not a chain mail full of "Chinese proverbs about money" that ends "This Chinese proverb brings luck. It originated from The Netherlands." Warms my cockles so much I just want to reach out and touch somebody. Hard.
If anybody would like a black cat, I'm just about willing to give the little fucktard away. A warning, though: For all his cute cuddliness, he will wake you up at 3am by sticking his nose in to your moustache and loudly breathing/purring on your upper lip until you turn away. He will then do it again. And again. If you should pull the blankets over yourself, he will wait patiently until you get too hot and have to come up for air. At which time he will return his nose to its place in your moustache. If he cannot find your moustache, he will lick whichever part of you is exposed, including knees, hands, arms, shoulders, cheeks, and hair. If you move, at all, he will yell loudly in joy at his achievement. And return to licking. If he should happen to walk off the bed (as he did this morning), or you should gently push him off the bed (as has happened other mornings) he will spring back up to greet you with a happy little shout in your face, expressing his enjoyment of the game you two are now playing. And then he will go looking for your moustache. Should you manage to completely thwart him by cowering under your blanket despite the uncomfortable heat, he will go find a dresser, window, poster, or steel drum that has magically appeared next to your pillow, and practice his version of Inagaddadavida until you reach out from your hidey-hole to take a swipe at him. He will lick whichever appendage has entered his airspace.
If you squirt him with a water bottle, he will run away. He will come back just as you drift off to sleep.
You may well give in to his demands and feed him. This is the wrong thing to do. Because once you go back to sleep, he will think, "Gee, my bowl looks so lonely only three-quarters full, it needs to be all full. DADDDDDDDYYYYYYYYY!" and it will start all over again.
The twenty hours of the day that are not between 3am and 7am, he is a walking teddy bear, the sweetest, most loving animal I've ever had. And that's what's saved him so far. But, really, damn.