Nov. 17th, 2013

erika_sanely: (My Tree thanks to slodwick)

I can’t believe how close I am to 30 thousand words - I could even make it this weekend if I try really really hard - but I must admit I am starting to struggle. I don’t know how people with actual novels do this; do they spend the months beforehand planning their plots? Then again, I think most people do actually have plots and proper novels. If I decide to do this again next year, I am going to start plotting out an actual story about August, and have fleshed out characters written down, and dot points on scenes, or even a plot. Just, something to make the madness easier.

I have a heap of house work to do tomorrow - and I really need to clean out my garage if I want my new car to have somewhere spiffy to spend its days! -so if I may be so bold to cheat, I am going to use up a couple of dozen words writing out my to-do list for tomorrow.

(In my defense, I normally write out my to-do list every week. Normally it is in a piece of paper in pen and not typed up.) )

Now, as long as I don’t get distracted by fan fic, I should be able to get all this done pretty quickly. But I have no idea what I”m going to write about tomorrow, and that worries me. I just have no idea what to say. I’m going to have a look at the NaNoWriMo forums, and look at the ideas that are up for adoption. Maybe even write an old fashioned short story for a change?

erika_sanely: (I could do that)

What is it about cats that make them so emotional? Is the word I’m looking for emotional? Flighty? Paranoid? Assassin-y? And their memories are so incredibly selective!

For example, last night just as I had gotten into bed Owen decided that now would be the perfect opportunity to go outside and do ..... I assume that he has another family elsewhere that feeds him fresh salmon and cream and makes sure that he has his own hot water bottle ... I usually try to wait him out, but when he starts to literally climb the walls (the sound of his claws on the walls is not unlike nails down a chalk board) I give in like the weak and easily trainable human I am and let him outside.

Owen, if he could, would be a permanent outside cat so I’ve stopped fighting a losing battle, and since I’ve become more ammenable to him coming and going, I have been getting more head butt pats from him, and curling up next to me on the lounge and just general love-like feelings from him, so it’s working out for us.

Marley, however does enjoy the indoor loving. There are times when he willingly goes outside, and there are times where he will hide underneath a bed and hope that I forget that he is there and he has the run of The! Entire! House! when I go to work. Last night though, he decided he wanted to go out whe Owen went, and like all people who are owned by cats, I tried explaining to Marles that I was going to bed, I and may not wake up when he knocks to come back in. (They knock; I think that swing their bums into the door, but whatever they do it’s definitely a knocking noise that is produced, and neither of them climb the gauze to announce their intentions to be inside now.)

He still went out. I still went to bed, and I slept all the night through, so I have no idea if he tried to come in later or not. I think though that it is safe to assume he tried, because he wasn’t waiting at the back door with Owen when I went to let them in for their breakfast. The only time Marley isn’t waiting for food is when I have done something horribly wrong and he is trying to prove to me that I am a terrible person who can’t be trusted.

He turned up about 5 hours later when I was outside cleaning up the garage, looked at me and then ran away. Came back 15 mintues later to look at me some more, make sure I noticed him, and then went and hide underneath a bush where I could only see his face. Where he made sure I could only see his face. And his face said “I can’t believe you did that to me. You are such an arse.” An hour later he moved to a bush that was closer to me to really make sure I could see his face, and this face said “Such. An. Arse.”

It took me another 45 minutes to convince him to come inside and eat, and while I helf the door open he ran inside as if I was making him come inside to be tortured instead of simply wanting to feed him something nutritious that he hadn’t killed. Then after eating he went and hid under the spare bed in the room he thinks is his. In case I decided that he must go back outside, when we all know I never made him to outside in the first place.

I hate how cats like to re-write history so you’re always the bad guy. I bet he yawns in my face tonight when I’m trying to sleep in what he believes will be a fair and just retalition for forcing him to be homeless last night.


ETA: Yep, revenge has been completed by Marley. It's amazing how comfortable clean folded up washing is when a cat is tired after a hard day plotting the destruction on the world. Clean folded navy clothing.

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