The rain is gone for a while. The house creaks in protest at the blissfully cool air of the pre-dawn hours.
Poopster puppy's clock is on snooze.
Kitty The Traitor no longer sleeps at my feet as I read the morning email, choosing instead the plush warmth of the down comforter and his place on the bed at Jim's feet.
MOF, KTT doesn't bother with me much at all anymore, unless the treat bowl is empty. He still herds me to the litter box after a deposit, but for the most part he has forgiven the prolonged absence and resumed his chosen station in life as Jim's biggest fan. So funny to see the two of them curled together in the living room chair-and-a-half, snoozing through the afternoon.
And so I am left to my own devices, just me and the light from the computer screen and a now-tepid cuppa, pleased with the weekend's football scores, looking forward to an uneventful week, chicken baking in the oven, and warmed by my thoughts of you.
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