Just a Coupla Things

Cats sleep an average of 15+ hours per day. More when they're older. They also regularly change up the boudoir environs.

 Cake, whose usual sleep spot is directly to my left on the bed, has been downstairs most of the time lately (while I’ve been spending a disproportionate amount of time reading in the crib...hmmm). Why’s our boy shunning me? According to Senior Cat Wellness, there could be a lot of potential reasons but I think it really comes down to this—new toys.

All the leftover boxes and bags from the holidaze are downstairs. Plus, he got a new, plush floored, limo sized carrier for Solstice. He’s just loving all of his new Catcaves. I certainly can’t blame him—cat’s gotta cat—but I miss his glorious, free-spirited, wild dozing self. I feel less guilty about MY naps if he’s there leading the charge.
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I still have a Twitter account but I rarely use it now. Why zat? The joint’s become desperately boring. The ads are irrelevant, even more than before trump V2, (AKA Space Karen), came along to perform his Dance of the Sugarplum Bumblefucks.

Most of my favorite posters are now elsewhere and so am I. The option to simply ❤️ a tweet, versus comment, is gone. New twits, their boosters and commenters all seem like thinly veiled paid ad-sters and propagandists, desperately trying to seem hip and spark a happening buzz (is this new—marketing masquerading as totally normal social interaction. Are these not-so-fresh-faces "influencers?”) I wouldn’t be at all surprised to read that MusKKK has to pay marketeers to plug their goods/services on his has-been site.

All in all, the place is like the ghost of some once fun, big ass mall. All the best, most useful shops and restaurants are gone and none of my friends, heroes or lovely acquaintances would be caught dead hanging out there. Just wall to wall trolls, zombies and all the poo flinging gaslighters that you never wanted.

I’m done.