The Sheep, A Shoe And The Dropping Thereof.

I mentioned the other day that I have learned to expect the worst from the least scary of all possible options. If I think disaster is coming at me courtesy of a flaming jet in a downward trajectory, it will actually strike from other quarters. Like an uneven carpet that causes me to trip or a waiting bee with a score to settle. It never fails...

After taking any and all precautions against disaster during the removal of the Mole Of Disturbing Dimensions, I was quite pleased to find that there were no ill effects. No flesh eating bacteria. No doctors with questionable degrees. Heck, you can't even see the stitches. I was feeling pretty good about the whole affair. But I noticed that I was feeling a little funny on Thursday afternoon. The feeling didn't dissipate by evening. In fact, it was rather worse. Thinking that I was falling prey once again to Hysterical Mind's tendency to overreact to any and all mildly negative stimuli, I chose to ignore it.

By 8:00 that evening, it was getting hard to ignore the general sense of malaise. Harder because my stomach was making these really robust gurgling noises. I said to myself, "golly-gee, I hope I'm not about to be sick or anything." No sooner said than done. I will spare you the details and simply say that it was a charming episode of The Sheep's Meals In Review. By the end I swear to you I caught a glimpse of some Gerber strained peas from circa 1965. 'Twas a purging worthy of the Roman Empire.

At least I was done waiting for that other shoe to drop.

Fortunately, the effects were short-lived and I was able to arise with the birdies and get back to work on Friday only a little the worse for wear and with a new understanding of what bad chicken can do to a Sheep. I'm back on my steady diet of frozen pepperoni pizza and will never stray again. Protein is not my friend. We are back to full operating strength today thanks to the good people who keep the freezer section stocked at the local market.

The same cannot be said for Persephone, aka The Big, Fluffy Kitty, who is currently being identified as Snuffles. She has a bit of a cold and has been periodically erupting in kitty sneezing fits that startle her each time as if it were her first experience with the phenomenon. This is not one of those felines who prefers to suffer in hiding. She will not retreat to parts unknown in times of duress. No...she is needy. Kind of like her mother. Thus, she has spent the better part of the day close to hand and ready to shower Mommy with kitty boogers at unpredictable intervals.

And she is demanding the chin and head scratches at all times.

I had to back up a bit to get this picture and that is just about as far apart as we've gotten for most of the day. She gets the sniffles every once in a while and they pass within days. We'll go see the d-o-c-t-o-r if it doesn't get any better. But, to those who worry about these things, fret not. She is well cared for and should be back to her snot-free self in short order.

Despite all the snufflin' and up-chuckin', there was great progress on the Boxy Cardigan. I took a short break from my nursing and knitting duties to visit with Amy The World's Greatest Stylist, but have otherwise been a pretty committed knittin' kitten sitter. I've completed the right front and have blocked both sides on the ironing board. The back will receive its steaming once I've found a spot that Desdemona won't discover. I don't mind kitties sleeping on the knits. I'm a single, middle-aged woman. The law states that I must have cat hair on me at all times. But she has a tendency to not-so-gently massage and claw at her resting spots until they are to her liking. This might not aid in the blocking process...

And she's the only cat I have that is not currently showering me in kitty spittle. I really need to be able to appreciate her right now.

SA