It's just too exciting and too, too American, but I am thrilled to now have readers in Oz. Up till now, I have been satisfied with readers in the UK and one poor fellow in Warsaw, Poland. Facebook keeps telling me when he tunes in, and asks me if I want to "view" him. Sure, I tell FB, why not? Then Facebook shows me a map of the world with a small dot hovering over, you guessed it, Warsaw, Poland.
Yes. I thought I would recognize him from this distance. I think I dated that dot in high school.
I am writing in the light of the tree that Beth and Victor (not their real names) got me for Christmas. It's half lit, the front half, because I didn't buy enough lights (yet). Being half lit is a waste of time for an alcoholic and a tree, so I will have to remedy that today.
The cats think I have invented heaven, bringing a tree indoors for them, just as it gets too cold to go outside. Echo, the sole female, sleeps under it every night. She was one of the orphans I had to raise on unicorn meat, due to her deli-cat digestion, (sorry) so the idea that friends would come six hours to visit her AND buy her a tree (and string up night lights in it), is not beyond the realm of imagination for her. This is just something else her slaves do for her comfort and amusement. However, I neglected to create it smelling like catnip. Bad. Human.
Although I will say this for her: Scherezade, a former cat, invariably climbed the tree, making the use of guy-wires necessary.
I'll write later on today. I have to see someone about a dog. Don't tell.
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