Dance of Life

I woke up this morning to the sounds of a fluffy furball attempting to jump in the closed window. Every 15 minutes, like clockwork - just as you are drifting back into blissful sleep. THUMP. scrabble. meow! I resisted getting up for as long as possible, because I knew I'd be playing right into her furry little paws. She planned it, you see. She's learned that if she wakes us up early, but asks to go outside, she'll have succeeded in waking us up without getting herself in trouble. Then she'll wait patiently, because I almost always get up about 10 minutes after this, unable to fall asleep again. and as soon as she sees I'm up she'll put up a barrage of meows until I let her in. Then I have no choice but to feed her. I could put it off, but fubman's always sleeping still and I don't want her constant meowing to wake him, so I just do it. This morning was different, because Shawn was the one who got up to let her out, and I slept through it. So Eastre's plan didn't work out so well for her, seeing as how I slept for a good few hours after that, while she was stuck outside. But her window shenanigans eventually did the job and woke me. She knows the exact perfect timing, like I mentioned, to keep us from falling asleep again once we're awake. What can I say? I live with a clever mound of fur.

A lot of time spent talking about my furry companion. I am becoming startlingly similar to a cat lady, except I just have the one. It's on it's second day of freezing rain downpour here, and it's not expected to stop at all tomorrow. I've been stuck inside with Eastre too long. You do not want to be anywhere NEAR me right now. My cabin fever is off the roof. good thing Shawn not only knows how to take it, but gives it right back...

I don't spend much time comparing him with Andreas anymore, because that ship's sailed long, long ago as far as I'm concerned. there's no need to anymore. But sometimes one (a comparison) comes unbidden to my mind. Like how my cabin fever used to make Andreas slightly uncomfortable and he wouldn't quite know what to do with me. Shawn acts as though he was born to contend with my brand of cabin fever. That's how I like my men. Although it does allow a feverish Amy to flourish in unflattering behaviour at times. That's ok, that's good. Where's the spice of life, if you can't allow yourself to speak and guffaw like a very old man every once in awhile - or snap out a smart jig to a song playing on the radio? limbs flying with abandon?

I wish I had something more interesting to tell...
I had an epiphany this morning while concocting woodsy scrambled eggs (with mushrooms fried in butter and garlic). Cooking is a true love of mine. I realized this when I suddenly thought how with cooking, no matter how simple the dish, I never ever try to cut corners. With me, this is significant. I ALWAYS try to cut corners! with everything! painting, piano, homework, housework. not cooking though - it has to be done with respect. I suppose my true love is food. Yes, that sounds right.