I haven't been posting because I haven't felt well, and that tends to lead to a lot of navel-gazing and complaining. And seriously, who wants to hear about that? Not me.
So, the past several days, I have finished reading the second book of The Green Rider Series, and another YA novel that was very heavy on the Y and not so heavy on the A, but I will be reviewing it soon.
This weekend, one of my cousins came up to visit. She had to drive to LAX to pick up a friend, so she parked on our sofa Sunday night. I'm about an hour and a half (or more, depending on traffic) from LAX, but she's in San Diego, which is like, three and a half hours away, so it was best for her to camp out with me and just go from there.
Now, I've mentioned that my cat is OCD to a certain level. His breed, Russian Blue, does not like change at all. Like, claws buried in the wall, not gonna move, hate change, period. But...I wasn't expecting his reaction to Anna staying over. He kept coming up to me and meowing at me, and then pacing and walking back and forth.
Monday morning, we all got up and left, Anna went her way, I went mine, Chekhov stayed at home. I got home that afternoon, not feeling well, and saw that the sofa was still made up and thought that it seemed like a good idea to just lay down and take a nap. Chekhov usually loves it if I do this and joins me, but he didn't on Monday. My mom got home that evening, also not feeling well (you have no idea how difficult it is to accomodate the flu when there is only one bathroom in the house...) and noticed Chek acting weird. She said, "I think he's upset about the sofa still being made up," and I agreed, so I took off the sheets and put them in the laundry hamper, and suddenly I had a new cat on my hands who couldn't wait to spend the evening with us.
You know; people think pets are stupid, and I'm not saying they aren't. Really I'm not. In fact, I think this whole situation shows up just how very stupid my cat is.
And yet...and yet...