Thursday, September 3, 2015

Today's Adorableness: Possy

I went to clean the bathroom this morning (a team of home stagers were coming to see the place), but there was this:

I  bet he knows that something's up. He hasn't been in the sink for ages, although it used to be one of his favorite lounging spots. He probably overheard me complaining about our new, tiny, windowless bathrooms with their tiny, plasticky sinks and tiny, grungy tubs. He may not know what "moving" is all about, but he wants me to know that only a fancy cherry and marble bathroom is worthy of him, and that he deserves a sink he can turn around in.

Too bad, Possum. You will just have to make do, at least for a while, like your parents. And maybe someday they'll be able to stop eating ramen noodles and renovate those tacky baths. But the good news is that you'll all be getting your own rooms, sort of. If you count the foyer.

When he left, I cleaned the bathroom. The whole place has been looking amazingly neat these days since brokers and other involved in selling it keep coming by, and I have to keep it looking nice. I keep moving things off surfaces and forgetting where I hid them... like the cats' food bowls.

I really wish a handyman and a painter would drop by, though. I really need both, soon, I can't find any who are free to do my long list of projects in a couple of weeks.

In other news, Harris was, predictably, all over the stagers, flinging himself at their black pant legs and lying on their paint decks. Then, when they left him to look at the apartment, he went wild  — or bunaruru, which is Harris's loud and flashy style of crazy.  He came flying into the bedroom howling and muttering, fur puffed up and "airplane" eared. Then he quickly spun around in a circle, which wasn't easy on the slippery floor, and flew back into the living room. Then he repeated the whole maneuver in case any of us had missed the finer points of his performance the first time. The stagers had never seen anything like it.

Then we heard him knock over a water glass in the living room. How he hates being ignored. I can't wait to see him tearing around the new place. It's bigger, so he'll have extra room to bunaruru up a storm.

1 comment:

Spam goes right into the trash but I appreciate relevant comments from non-spammers (and I can always tell the difference). I do my best to follow up if you have a question. ALL spam, attempts to market other websites, and anything nasty or unintelligible gets deleted instantly. The cats and I thank you for reading — and please feel free to comment on what you read.