Today has been a day.
Not a catastrophic day. Not a triumphant day. Just… a day. The weather has committed fully to this assessment by refusing to commit to anything else — it has been hovering somewhere between put a cardigan on and take the cardigan off since approximately seven this morning, and I have given up trying to predict which direction it’s heading next. The sky is doing what it wants. I have made my peace with this.
The bigger concern today is one of our girls, who is not herself. We think she has a blocked salivary duct — poor love — which means tomorrow morning I’ll be on the phone first thing trying to get her an emergency appointment, and Monday we make the trip to the vet. She is being very stoic about the whole business, as cats tend to be when they are unwell, wearing their discomfort with a quiet dignity that makes you feel simultaneously heartbroken for them and slightly judged by them. We are keeping a close eye on MuMu tonight. Fingers crossed.
On the more chaotic end of the animal household updates: the ducks have entered their nesting phase, and they are taking the mission very seriously. Two of them have decided that the catio roof is the ideal location to survey their options, which means we currently have ducks on the roof and cats underneath watching them through the wire with expressions ranging from baffled to professionally offended. I cannot tell you this is not my life every single day, because it absolutely is.
Inside, the hierarchy has been firmly established. Mumma has taken over the Pusheen bed with the air of someone who has always owned it and simply allowed others to use it until now. And Hopalong — my little broken sunshine — has had the fire going since eleven this morning and is, by all observable measures, in a state of complete bliss. She has barely moved. I respect this. If I could spend the day in a pink fluffy bed in front of a warm fire, I would not move either.
On the productivity front — well. It was going to be the day I finally taught myself Reels and Instagram Shows. Or whatever they’re called. I had a whole plan. The plan required the printer. The printer, as it has been doing with grim consistency, refused to cooperate. And without the printed notes I’d prepared, I found myself staring at the platform with the particular blank energy of someone who knows there is a system here and cannot locate the entry point without their cheat sheet.
So that’s an agenda item that lives to fight another day. These things happen.
What did happen — and I am claiming this victory fully — is that I got my emails sorted into an actual email client. Everything in its place, properly organised, no longer living in the chaotic wilderness of a browser tab I was afraid to close. It is a small thing. It is also genuinely satisfying in the way that only administrative tasks you’ve been quietly avoiding for longer than you’d like to admit can be.
One tick. I’ll take it.
So that’s today. A sick kitty to worry about, ducks on the roof, a printer that owes me an apology, and one small organisational win that I am holding onto with both hands. Hopalong has the fire. Mumma has the Pusheen. The weather remains undecided.
Tomorrow we call the vet. Tonight we count cats and make sure everyone is where they’re supposed to be.
That’s enough for a Saturday.
🖤🏒
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