Off Limits - The Sequel

Yeah, how's that workin' for ya?  I'm a weak-willed, lily-livered, namby-pamby softy.  When I say I've got a furry lap robe, I mean it.  When I say off limits, no one believes I mean it.  Perhaps I should have lit a fire last night.  Ralph, Celeste and Bessie Anne obviously landed on any warm port in a storm.  Obviously, alone time is short lived in my house.  My legs are under there somewhere.

Hellacious storm this morning, wind howling and rain pounding.  Ah well.  It is what it is.  I stuffed a towel on the bedroom windowsill to prevent a recurrence of the soaking during the last storm.  I can't get the window closed so settled for the next best solution.  I hope the storm doesn't change Tecla's plan to visit today.

I'm holding the good thought for Deb and Craig.  Their cat, Clyde, had a serious seizure last night and I'm waiting to hear how he's doing.  My cats are quirky; Clyde is a total whack job.  He showed up at their door as a tiny kitten and walked into Cat Heaven.  No cat has ever had it better than Clyde.  Cosseted and spoiled beyond belief, he has been the apple of their eye and the cause of much cussing for over twelve years.