Fuzzballs in boxes

I’m curled up in bed covered in hives and trying not to claw any more skin from my body. Joy! Today I let a woman stick a bunch of pins in my legs and didn’t run away screaming although I did sweat a lot. It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve been through, but I certainly wouldn’t describe it as relaxing either.

I also cooked what I think is the least edible meal I’ve ever made. My sister is recovering from mouth surgery and I’ve been making her soups and mash. Spinach and feta soup is apparently an expensive exercise in making something to fertilise the garden with. Grrrrrr.

Come on antihistamines, do your thing. Heartburn is giving me a bit of gyp too. I’m alone in the house tonight, Rose is off babysitting. Well, by alone I mean there’s two dogs and three cats here. My sisters cat Ceilidh and dog Barloc are staying over for a bit. Two of the cats are flanking me on the bed. One is sulking after going for a nap in my potato cupboard and getting trapped for a couple of hours until I could work out where they were. The dogs are sleeping after going mental earlier when the cricket or whoever set off a bunch of fireworks.

Here’s Zoe, Barloc, and Ceilidh hanging out in my couch:


The cats are doing well since I realised they were squabbling over prime window positions and the best boxes for sitting in. So I’ve rearranged the window areas and created a number of cat boxes for them. It’s been an effective solution and they’ve been getting along well since. My home now usually sports at least one box occupied by a cat at all times:


My sister will be moving into her now house within a couple of weeks and taking her fuzzballs with her. It’s going to be spacious and quiet around here by comparison! I might even get some writing done. ūüėČ

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