Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2019-02-27 08:55 pm
azurelunatic) wrote2019-02-27 08:55 pm
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Belovedest's cat is sometimes a burrower. She will dig her way under or into the coat they've left draped across the couch and look ridiculously cozy.
The living room couch is also a bit of a storage space, containing everything from clothes to mail to a (clean, holding maybe one Euro in coins) Darth Vader mug, to the Christmas tree skirt that figured in last Friday's public transport adventure. (3 broken lifts, an artificial tree, and me.)
The PNW had one hell of a snowstorm (by local standards) a few weeks ago. I ordered a driveway scoop and two car shovels, which of course only arrived after it was safe for the delivery people to venture forth (as is right and proper).
My partner is a Tol. Or, sometimes more frequently, a Lóng. They tend to sprawl lengthwise across the floor with their legs under the couch, face down in something, often Pokémon or the ritual giving of grief to P.E.R.N. This is a particularly pleasant sight.
My partner's backside is particularly fine, admired in at least four states.
So there's the cat, digging under the black wool trenchcoat and under the fluffy lavender MLP blanket, such that her tail is sticking out one end and her head the other.
Both ends disappear under the pile. This is adorable.
A box shifts.
"Oh dear," I say. "She's about to drop a shovel on your ass."
And she looks so innocent and sweet and fluffy.
The living room couch is also a bit of a storage space, containing everything from clothes to mail to a (clean, holding maybe one Euro in coins) Darth Vader mug, to the Christmas tree skirt that figured in last Friday's public transport adventure. (3 broken lifts, an artificial tree, and me.)
The PNW had one hell of a snowstorm (by local standards) a few weeks ago. I ordered a driveway scoop and two car shovels, which of course only arrived after it was safe for the delivery people to venture forth (as is right and proper).
My partner is a Tol. Or, sometimes more frequently, a Lóng. They tend to sprawl lengthwise across the floor with their legs under the couch, face down in something, often Pokémon or the ritual giving of grief to P.E.R.N. This is a particularly pleasant sight.
My partner's backside is particularly fine, admired in at least four states.
So there's the cat, digging under the black wool trenchcoat and under the fluffy lavender MLP blanket, such that her tail is sticking out one end and her head the other.
Both ends disappear under the pile. This is adorable.
A box shifts.
"Oh dear," I say. "She's about to drop a shovel on your ass."
And she looks so innocent and sweet and fluffy.