Ah, the joy, the freedom of cruising the Internet with gay abandon once again. Switching screens at will, typing and seeing letters appear immediately; gosh, it has me almost giddy.
At six yesterday morning, I called to cancel the onsite tech appointment. Probably fifteen minutes on hold as the recorded voice repeatedly thanked me for my patience (which fortunately had been replenished). It took three people and a supervisor to cancel the appointment and another to reverse the charges. Funny, yes, but not surprising when a call came in the afternoon from the technician who wanted to confirm his appointment here. Aaargh.
Frank is a fairly big boy, especially when he bulks up in winter, but he is still normal cat size. However, there is some magic that occurs at night. On the bed, in the dark, he becomes this huge, immovable monolith. Attempting to turn over, I find myself trapped between snoring Bessie Anne and sleeping Frank. I thought cats were supposed to be on high alert, waking at the twitch of a whisker. Not Frank. Swaddled in the sheets, I can't move. Thrashing as best I can has no effect. Talking out loud doesn't faze him. He just settles in deeper. Fully awake now, I squeeze out like toothpaste at the top, over the pillow. Frank sleeps on. Bessie continues to snore.
This is my Christmas Eve; the Kids will be here tomorrow. They will, indeed, bring joy to my world.