Poor Gramsci
Well, the time has come for our poor baby kitten, rapidly working his way towards manhood, to be unmanned. Yes, he's going to be having a small operation this week in order that the horror of territorialism doesn't intrude upon the family home.
I feel horrible having it done - we both do - we don't want him to change, though he inevitably will, even if it's only calming down some.
But needs must. Poor unsuspecting kitten.
Long Weekend?
Was it?
I'm having difficulty working out what we did with it.
I know there was a quick get-together with my mate Liz on Saturday, followed by possibly the best episode yet of new Doctor Who.
I know that Sunday was effectively wasted (though in a very pleasant way) playing World of Warcraft. David's started a new character so I was helping him with a bit of high-level support to get to a higher level more quickly.
And part of Monday was spent very profitably getting the fixings for, and setting up, a window box for David's flat, which being on the first floor is the nearest thing to a garden we'll have for a while.
But somehow, it doesn't feel like I've done seventy two hours worth of stuff in the last seventy two hours....