stephbg | Just a day (Reply)

Just stuff. Apologies for the Stephen Moffat style non-linear nature of the narrative.

Given that yesterday was a strong hydrotherapy session, I was very pleased this morning to manage a trip by myself to a very large shopping centre to complete TribbleJ's registration paperwork. Went early before the school holiday crowd kicked in, got a trauma free parking space in the familiar bit, and having finally found a decent map of the place I knew exactly where I was going so wasted not a moment in faffing about. Except perhaps the couple of minutes I spent buying a book, and most of that was waiting at the counter. It was on the way. The book was the next one in a series I'm reading. I'd already decided to buy it. There was a terrible flood.

Enjoyed pleasant cat-chat with the council lady and the errand was done. Needed the cane on the final stretch back to the car, and felt a bit sore on the short drive back, but not outrageously so.

Yesterday's hydrotherapy was a good session in general, but also the first since the reflux started actively ruining my life where I felt I'd regained some ground. Not all of it, but it's incredibly good to be heading in the right direction once more. Was actually surprised I felt up to a major errand in the morning, but the expected crash came just a few hours later. Still, managed to put out yet another load of laundry in between faceplant sessions.

Yesterday's laundry was "special" and included our (fortunately removable and washable) beanbag cover, which had been liberally christened with Boris Giles pee late the previous evening. Just as I was heading to bed, of course. TribbleJ had been particularly insistent with his play attacks on Boris Giles that day, and I could see he was getting a bit ragged around the edges. TribbleJ hounded Boris Giles from attempted resting place to attempted resting place, until he let it go, as the song says, in the beanbag. I'd already given TribbleJ several timeouts during the day for rough play, but we decided to give the big kittens the night off. Thank heavens for doors and multiple litter stations.

That same evening TribbleJ managed to get up on the kitchen bench for the first time, but was so startled when I caught him at it that he scattered the recycling and a drinking glass smashed to the floor. I had hoped that the smash would be sufficiently frightening to TribbleJ that he would avoid the benchtop, but no, he bounced back to his super happy terrific fun self with unnatural speed. While I was still cleaning up broken glass, in fact. Boris Giles on the other hand might have been further upset by the noise. He has form for stress weeing, previously due to Buffy's overzealousness in play. I hope and pray that once TribbleJ grows up and slows down a bit that I'll not have to deal with stray wee again, but in the meantime I hope Feliway can help. I could do without the broken glass too. Ugh.

Anyway, the beanbag cover came out a treat, but unfortunately the smell clung to the very much unwashable inner layer. I've drowned it in Febreeze and crossed my fingers.

I've been meaning to write an updated cat politics post for some time, but never seem to find the spoons. Every day bring a new little development in their relationships which sadly I've now probably lost to my titular dodgy memory. It's mostly good. Mostly. At least all problems currently stem from an excess of kittenish enthusiasm, and there's no aggression to worry about.