I haven’t been feeling terribly well, lately—particularly in the mornings when I eat. I suppose I could just stop eating all together and that would really help with my weight loss goals, but the cramping in the stomach, the nausea and other related issues seem to indicate that something bigger is amiss. I don’t know what that something is, but I have an appointment with my doctor to see what we can do about it. My fear is that the medicines I’m taking are affecting my liver, and I want to nip that in the bud if that’s the case. If it’s something that will pass and I just need to press through it, then so be it.
Meanwhile, I’ve spent more than my fair share of time in my bedroom either sleeping or sitting in my chair reading, or watching Good Omens on my laptop. The cats, Anastasia and Raku, are thrilled for me to be there, inasmuch as a cat will ever express that they’re thrilled about anything. I have a new-to-me chair that I’m happy with, and I cleaned up another one that I’ve had, one that I’ve never actually been able to use because the cats claimed it immediately. So, new life, new me. I have chairs.
The other day I came in to find this:
This is not my cat
I’m not trying to start problems or anything, but Anastasia has already established that this is her chair when I’m not sitting in it. I fear that Cleo is either inadvertently going to cause a war, or that’s precisely what her plan is. To be honest, she’s my partner’s cat, so it’s not like she wandered in out of nowhere, but this is not a room or building that she comes in, until the past few weeks. All I ask is, if there is fur shed in this fight, let it not be on my chair, and let my chair not be collateral damage.