That’s not a typo. For the past year I’ve lived in a hair free environment. My own out-of-control locks not withstanding. Alas, my days of crisp black clothes are at an end. In a good way. A week ago, I was rescued by a 10yr old moggy that captured my heart.
Don’t tell her, but I’m not a fan of the name. I tried to change it, but nothing would stick. Like it or not, she’s Stella. I do cheat just a tad. I call her Stellar sometimes. I figure she’ll just think I have an accent.
I was out the other day in my usual “Power Suit”(I’m a writer so that translates into jeans and a black top. It’s my armor.) when I glanced down to discover a rather large amount of hair on my chest. I’m happy to report that the hair wasn’t mine. My eyebrows may be out of control, but my chest remains hairless.
No more cat cuddles prior to leaving. Unless I’m wearing gray.
Like most cats, she’s spatially challenged when it comes to the relativistic size of a box.
She’s also a great writing companion.
So, yes. There will be the occasional cat photo bomb coming your way.
Hope you’re having a great day,