My cats have been chasing each other around the house this morning, I suppose filled with spring fever. Well, they do this every day, so really I should just mark it down to them still being kittens, even though both of them look nearly grown. They’ve also recently discovered the fireplace, which to them must be a really cool cave to explore or something. Now that I’ve made it off-limits, it’s even more intriguing. This is such a badly designed apartment in so many ways–the flu is horizontal for quite a ways, and large enough for a cat to fit in, especially a curious one like Tildrum or Mogget. Mogget is a tuxedo cat with little white socks on his paws–normally. Now, his white parts are almost as dark as his black parts, covered in soot that won’t wash off. I’ve tried twist-tying the chain closed (my last apartment had glass in front of the chain, so it was easily kept off-limits), but they seem to still be finding a way in when I’m at work. I come home at night to little sooty paw marks all over everything.
It’s a beautiful, sunny day outside, but I feel like staying in. I’m supposed to be at church in 15 minutes, actually, but I have a feeling I won’t find parking because it’s a conference today. I should have left an hour ago just to get there in time to park.
I’m working on reading Scott Westerfeld’s latest installment in the Midnighters series, Blue Noon. Halfway through. I love the concept of this series, and it’s told in a satisfying way. Next on the list–at least from the library pile of books–is Uglies, by the same author. Of course, there’s also the even larger pile of books I’ve been meaning to get to on my own bookshelf. Ever since I became an editor full time, I’ve had ADD when it comes to reading other books. It’s not that they’re not good books–it’s that when I come home, if I have reading to do for work, I should be doing that, and if I don’t, I’d rather rest my eyes and do something non-readerly. I’m getting past it, though, slowly.