Before Mrs. W. came to live with us, she lived with my parents who were pretending like my other brother owned her. The butt-patting cat you see on the right here was already living at my parents’ house when Mrs. W. arrived. In their younger days, they used to take turns chasing each other through the house.
Butt-patter there was only mildly annoyed by the return of Mrs. W. today and they worked out a system whereby they could both get loving from my dad, which seems to be important for them.
The drive up here took forever, because my dad’s directions were “Go north on 41–it’s four-lane all the way–and when you get tired of Indiana, turn left. In new news, the Pennyrile is open clear to 24, so that’s nice. In surprising news to me, 41 is NOT four-lane all the way. You have to get on some other road, possibly 63, at Terra Haute or you spend an hour driving down curvy hills next to state parks and swollen rivers.
I should have been suspicious when there were no Dairy Queens on said two-lane road that it was a two-lane road my dad would never take on purpose.
But anyway, I’m here. I’ve told them a little about the novel, leaving out the butt-sex with Satan. And they’ve bickered pretty much non-stop.
So, I guess everything is normal. Watseka tomorrow!
p.s. Holy cow, the roads in Indiana are bad. I know it’s been a rough winter, but I hope Mitch Daniels’ budget cuts don’t include the Department of Transportation or everyone in Indiana will just have to stay home and telecommute.
Tiny Cat Pants 