I was an utter slug yesterday. I did almost nothing. I tried to remember to breathe. Oh, wait, I bathed.
And Spooky went out and adopted a new cat. He is Linus Beane Thumbknuckle (he came with the Linus part attached, and it fit so well, we kept it), a three-year-old polydactyl Lynx-point "Siamese" mix. Though, to me, he looks more bobcat than any manner of Siamese. I deem him a mutt. He has six toes on three feet, and five on one back foot. Almost a whole extra foot's worth of toes, so he's a proper Hemingway cat. Skittish as hell, and poor Hubero just wants to play. Linus spent the night in Spooky's sewing room, but he's beginning to venture forth into the vasty world beyond. I think he's even explored the front parlor. Linus weighs 8.75 pounds, to Hubero's 11. By the way, two cats is the absolute feline limit for this household. No exceptions.
A medium-bad seizure last night. Sometimes they come whether I rest or not.
And Vince has turned in the final illustration for A is for Alien. The platypus swears that A is for Alien is what all the cool kids are giving for Solstice presents this year, even though the publication date isn't until February. The best presents come after all the crazed holiday hoopla. Or so says the wizened monotreme.
There are two photos from yesterday, behind the cut:
Yesterday morning. The snow from my office window.
Last night, while I was recuperating from the fit, Linus joined me on the bed. Look upon those paws and be amazed.