There will be a cat.
A slonky blue-grey boy that's a year and a week old with greenish eyes. A little standoffish and but if you keep your hands to yourself and let him approach first - he warms up quickly.
We're waiting until after Christmas to have a week sleepover with him. He's currently named Smokey - but I'm looking to change that to another two syllable name a bit more suitable.
Name suggestions welcome.
Things I love: SSRIs, cats, and this ridiculously tedious whipped coffee.
week hasn't fully begun yet and I'm already over it.
fuck this week. fuck cancer. fuck dogs getting old.
I know I'm anthropomorphizing Bell (my dog) but it's so hard not to these days. We're tired, she's getting tired, but every time I think I'm closer to making hard decisions she plunks her head in my lap and demands attention.
@cobaltasaurus
Could you please tell your pupper that they are the cutest?
With the hair bracelets?! I can't. It's too adorable.
it's super weird, in the shadow of turning a certain age, that I thought I would have my shit totally figured out -- but, nope, at 42 here I am sitting and and going -- that's right, the gender binary is bullshit and you should get a binder because why the fuck not.
@Cupcake This is becoming kind of a guidebook.
Used another generator on the same page. It's slightly more Malcolm.
I reenacted the sled down the stairs scene from Home Alone.
@Quinn said in Real World Peeves, Disgruntlement, and Irks.:
Advocate for yourself though, as with anything!
