First and foremost, I have to complain about my cat. Don’t get me wrong, I love my cat. She’s aesthetically pleasing, generally affectionate, and an enthusiastic eater. But this morning, she’s been giving me the stick.

I opened my bedroom door, planning to stumble into the kitchen and make myself a coffee in a desperate attempt to wake up and feel human again. Mornings are hard, you know. But the second I opened the door, the cat was there. She let out a terrible yowl and dashed right past me making a beeline for the bathroom.

Perhaps you’re asking yourself now—why would a cat be so desperate to get into the bathroom? The answer may surprise you. (I need to add a link here. It’s clickbait basics.)

You see, if the cat can get into the bathroom, she can go to the bathroom trash and find some used dental floss and eat it. Yummy, right?

So I had to get the cat out of the room before she ate my dental floss before I’d even had my coffee, which makes it very challenging to do anything. But she wasn’t done yet.

I have this new orchid. It’s name is Orrie, named after Orrie Cather from Nero Wolfe, because Nero Wolfe loves orchids and Orrie Orchid has a nice alliteration to it. I’ve been trying really hard to take care of Orrie, because I don’t want him to die, but you know orchids can be tricky. Nero Wolfe hired a full time gardener and spent four hours every day with his orchids. And I’m certainly no Nero Wolfe.

So I was sitting at the dining table, trying to eat my breakfast in peace, when the cat leaps up onto the windowsill where Orrie is getting his morning indirect sunlight. And she starts trying to eat the flowers. Of my orchid, who I’m trying very hard to keep alive. Really, cat?

So I convinced her to not eat the orchid, and returned to my breakfast, only to be interrupted once more by the cat furiously eating my son’s art project. On the one hand, he had already turned it in, so we technically didn’t need it still, but it wasn’t technically made of anything particularly edible, so I asked the cat to please desist.

And then the cat barfed. Twice. And then she looked at me smugly, like, yes, human, I have barfed and you must clean it up and I knew I was going to barf all morning and I have won decidedly over you and your non-barfing ways.

In other news, my laptop is busted and in the shop, so I’m having to use my husband’s Macbook, which is fine, except that it really isn’t because the trackpad is too large and there’s no right-clicking and it makes the wrong sort of typey noises when I’m writing. And the edges are too sharp and dig into my legs. And its too slippery and I’m always afraid I’m going to drop it. But it’s fine. Perfectly fine.

Somewhat Alive managed to claw its way to number one of New Releases in Apocalyptic and Post Apocalpytic books, which is really nice. I love having the little banner on the book’s page. It’s just nice aesthetically. Like the cat.

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