I haven’t knitted on my shirt or crocheted on my blanket all week because I’m working on a surprise for a friend. I haven’t crocheted this much … ever! I think I actually sprained my thumb after one extended session.
My cat Plato is sitting next to me on the couch as I type. This may sound like a very banal sentence, but it’s truly earthshaking. Plato has always been a free spirit, like this wild manx that just happens to live in our house. Over the past few months, he’s mellowed drastically. I remember our torti Madeleine going through a similar change around her third birthday (Plato’s approximate age). She was always sweet and personable, though, a lap cat from day one. She just calmed down a bit. Plato went from running away if you reached to pet him to sleeping beside me. I’ve tried to establish some routines with him (he likes to be pet before I get out of bed in the morning and he comes to “help” me fold laundry because I used to give him kibble there). I really don’t have an explanation for this fuzzball curled up next to me right now, though. I like it.