Scribblings from the Mitchy Side

Happy Canada Day to my Canadian flisters *squishes* Hope you have a fun day :) Do you guys do the fireworks thing like the Americans do for July 4th?

Work was...busy. Very busy. However, Monster Job 1 has been finished, although there will be follow up work to do Friday. This afternoon I was working with Hollywood as Battleship is on holiday. Spent all afternoon compiling a mailing list of over 200 names but I got the job finished! Albeit gone 5.30. Ah well :) I'll be able to leave nice and early on Friday with a bit of luck.

Roastingly hot here at the flat, made worse because I was spoiled all afternoon by the office I was in being temp controlled and thus nice and cool. The cat is loving it of course, he's been plastered up against the lounge window where the sun's been shining all afternoon, baking as only a cat can. He has only just retreated to the coolness of his cat bed in the hall - all I can see of him is 4 lil' white paws. Dead cute :)

And now I must muster up some enthusiasm and go get something to eat. Really don't want to cook but I'm all out of salad/cold food. *sighs*

I'm all set :D Suit's all sorted and hanging up, I've done my homework on the company. All I've got to do is get there and be myself - only the sort of self they might hire :P

In other news, the cat's in the doghouse. Majorly so. He's been using the front of the arm of the World's Comfiest Sofa as a scratching post. Made a lovely mess of the cover. Grrrr!!! I'll have to think of a way of protecting it that won't look really ugly. In the meantime, if anyone receives a black and white furry pyjama case for Christmas they'll know the source.

So there I was this morning, doing my world famous impersonation of a hibernating dormouse, when a loud noise penetrated my dreams. Gradually my conscious took over and vaguely registered that it sounded like yelling. Specifically, a young child's yelling. I growled, prepared to roll over and then realised that it wasn't a child, it was the cat, yowling fit to be tied.

My sleep-riddled thought process promptly went along the lines of "OMG HE MUST BE HURT/DYING/IN DISTRESS/THERE'S A FIRE/BURGLAR/MYSTERIOUS MONSTERS IN THE FLAT!!!" so I stumbled out of bed and flung myself into the hall. Only to see his Furriness completely unhurt, with no sign of incipient danger, and giving me his "I'm cute and HUNGRRRRY!" look.

Possibly something in the expression on my face convinced him that this wasn't his best move ever. It was 6am. He wasn't due for feeding for another two hours, just the same as any other morning. We hadn't put the clocks back or forward, so there was no excuse. He just decided he was hungry and wanted feeding nowthatveryminuteorhe'ddiehonest!

Furry bastard.

He got fed five minutes before I left the house at 8.50am. On purpose. And he kept his furry butt well out of my way for the duration, too.

The rest of the day went downhill from there, really.

The only bright spot was managing to impress BullyGirl by producing 20 letters with no mistakes. I'll gloss over how many attempts it took me to produce the flawless documents to give to her, mind.