I apologize to non-cat-people for having to mention a hairball to tell the story, but all I have to do is mention it. Amelia coughed up a hairball this afternoon. I threw a bit of a fit because it was on the carpet, but there was no major staining. Then she was vocalizing with her blue jay voice, which I always took to mean that she was unhappy. Then within five minutes, she was up on my lap purring like crazy. It was probably the loudest I've heard her purr, and I've had her for nine years. A big hairball fan? Likes getting yelled at? Just easy-going? It's a mystery to me.
Speaking of happy cats, I sprayed all their squeaky mouse toys with catnip oil. So far, they show no sign of caring one way or another, although they like the toys fine. But at least I'm in there trying.
Meanwhile in the tax world, the CPA returns from vacation tomorrow, so I guess we'll get all that settled soon. I'm hoping he can work with the Turbo Tax program and so assume. I can of course print off all these gazillion pages of forms but am hoping too that we are making lots of changes and then I'd have to print them off again. Well, maybe not; one can file electronically of course. I'm just having nightmare visions of waiting on reams of paper to print and having the ink run out on form 187B or something. Just tax season stress, no doubt.
Recent dreams: Hillary decided that she didn't want to be President after all but rather to be First Lady again, so she threw Bill over finally and married me, somehow making me instantly the sure-thing frontrunner. And last night, I dreamed I was letting some Broadway stars stay with me and they inexplicably threw most of my possessions outside in a pile. I probably need to stop listening to old-time radio all night.
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