Tuesday Schmuesday

I’m writing this at 5 am, trying to field cats from my really gross breakfast scramble that I bought from Trader Joe’s two weeks ago. If you’re considering it, I suggest you turn away unless you like greasy, flavorless eggs and slimy, crunchy onions. My cats do, so it’s making this hard. They’re trying to weasel their ways onto the table to snag an oily bite (gag).

I’m also not a fan of them this morning since I got up at 2, 3, 4, and 5 am to feed them. They’re like infants. Every night Sean says in frustration, “we should just declaw them!” But he and I both know we could never knowingly inflict pain on our little kitties. Even when they are pains in the ass.

So if I seem a little lackluster today, that’s why. I’m just tired of waking up in the A.M.s for hungry little hippos. And I’m sad my breakfast scramble tastes like the inside of a gym shoe. Alas, there’s always toast and jam to make life a little better.

And baby Mitten Fitten

Happy Tuesday.


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