Home Alone

The last of the company left this morning, much to the relief of the cats. Thisbe has been under the bed all week, and Annie has been stressed out from all the extra love and petting. Both animals appeared to know that the guests were gone. How is this possible? We've been in and out for days. Perhaps it was the early awakening this a.m. or the sight of the suitcases. Anyhow, they knew. I know. I know. Yesterday was cat blog day but I had other topics to discuss.

Now to start on all the tasks for the new year. Y membership, new wireless modem installed. Lots of paperwork and filing and ah yes, the laundry.

We have a large snow fort in the front yard and also a snow woman with the longest darkest eyelashes. Great consternation that we had no carrot for a nose. Alas, we had eaten them all, but a piece of wood was procured and painted. It's entertaining to watch a young, creative mind at work.

I'm still plugging away at Donald Maass' book, and thinking (or trying to think) of ways to up the ante and make a strong compelling character. This new novel will be much more difficult than the last four. I was kind of in the groove for writing my crime fiction series.

So, onward but possibly not upward, and maybe it only seems like onward. By the end of the day I'll have a clean desk, which as we used to say, is the sign of a sick mind.

Grapeshot