I had more flies yesterday. A lot more.
But when Ollie Cat came in looking for dinner around, oh, 2:30 pm — daylight savings is a real stretch for my 4-legged friends — and I didn’t respond to her meows, her sitting on my keyboard effing everything up, her move to a spot on my wacom tablet, directly in front of my screen. –Well I finally responded by pushing her aside and she settled down for an apparent nap on my paper cutter.
(Still meowing pathetically.)
It took me a while to register the sound she was soon making: the sound of eating.
And I realized she was eating my flies that I had been saving to make myself feel better about my accomplishments for the day. She ate about half of them before I screamed at her to, and I swear this is verbatim: “HEY! STOP IT! THOSE ARE MY FLIES!”
And I find I have little else to show for, or to say about this day.
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