My injured sister-in-law is talking about selling her big house and moving into a senior condo or co-op. Most of these places allow two small dogs, or two cats, or a cat and a dog. Not three animals. Since she has two little dogs she is very fond of and a pretty Bombay cat she put into our temporary care, she has a dilemma. And since the Bombay has already wormed her way into our hearts and household, it’s very easy to see the direction this is going to take. It appears that even after we swore off cats when Snaps had to be put down, we are likely the permanent new owners of a Bombay cat named Java. We have learned that Java is about six years old, and came to my sister-in-law’s house as a kitten. Animals have surprisingly long memories and I wonder if Java misses Steve and Margaret. Steve is beyond recall, but as soon as sister-in-law is able to get out and about, I want to invite her to come visit Java – or would that be cruel? Meanwhile, I went grocery shopping yesterday and went to an upscale pet food store to get a fresh pack of the kind of kitty litter she’s used to – and so long as I was there I took a chance and bought one of those laser lights most cats love to chase. And boy, does she! This morning I picked it up off my desk and she recognized the sound of the keychain attached to it and is currently sitting behind my chair crying for me to turn it on for her. Excuse me a minute. . . .
My cough is almost gone – hurrah! A doctor at my clinic said my lungs are clear and prescribed an inhaler and some peculiar little golden capsules to knock down the cough. And sure enough over the weekend it went from major annoyance to small nuisance to hardly coughing at all. So I’m off later this morning for a Remicade infusion to knock my immune system back a couple of notches, the one treatment guaranteed to keep my psoriatic arthritis at bay. Life is good again.
I have not been blogging much about my writing because I haven’t been doing much writing. I leaned hard on myself on Sunday, went to a web site Previously Owned By A Gay Man to look at furniture and furnish Godwin and Rafael’s condo. I found some rather peculiar things and decided Rafael, who was born and raised in Barcelona, had been keeping furniture in storage until last year. His taste is either exquisite or abominable (avant-garde European with Asian accents), not sure which, but I’ve invited Betsy and Connor to an impromptu New Year’s Eve party at the boys’ place to have their eyes startled – and so a blockage that’s been going on for weeks has finally broken apart. I ought not to be surprised at how describing a setting will move a plot forward for me. But I am. A problem is going to be describing the couch and occasional chair. Well, not the couch so much, it’s a backless slab tilted just a little upward at either end. But that chair – Indonesian rattan and mahogany with brass fittings. A beautiful thing. If I were rich, I’d buy it, though it would clash magnificently with our current furniture. Describing it is going to be difficult fun. Take a look: