This is my cat by the way. My dad ripped out the ceiling of this room in my house, so we- being my cat and I- were playing peek-a-boo. He's in the attic and I sniped him as well as his personality. (He's crazy, frankly).My writing routines usually goes the same. House empties. I make lunch and my cat wakes up from his snooze. He goes crazy for an hour. I sit down and write and he passes out next to me. Then when I write at night he goes crazy again and passes out at like midnight. Then we go to bed.
I'm probably a crazy cat lady, but I got him right around when I stopped writing so if I kept writing I probably would have written entire blogs about him like this one. But I'm just doing this because I'm overtired and he's attacking my feet making it impossible to get into a mindframe of a 16-year-old boy.
No comments:
Post a Comment