Last night we went to see the Headless Chickens play, and it was fantastic. They were as full of energy as they were 20 years ago, the crowd loved them and they played my especial favourite song Mr Moon.
It was interesting to run into so many people we hadn't seen for ages, because it made us realise that we haven't been out to anything music or club-related for nearly a year. There's nothing wrong with that, it was just another reminder of how life keeps changing.
Allow me a small rant about the venue: I hate the Gaelic Club. Hate. There is nowhere to sit and having to stand for four hours (albeit draped against a wall-shelf-thing) made me very cranky. Also I managed to gash my leg with my other foot (I have no idea how; it takes a special sort of talent to be as klutzy as I).
Today has been very, very quiet and decidedly non-productive. But that's ok too, I suppose.
The one thing I have done is made an executive decision to have two litterboxes in the downstairs loo. The cat already has his litterbox there, but has decided he wants to use a patch of floor about half a metre away. So I've put another litterbox in that spot in the hope that it might stop this behaviour.
Honestly, the room is slightly over a metre square, and it has two litterboxes. We only have one cat.
Speaking of Mr Puss and lack of productivity, here how he's spent his day:
He loves sleeping on this computer box: it's big enough for him (not everything is), it's in the one spot that gets the afternoon sun, he can look down on the comings and goings in the shared courtyard. And it demonstrates the virtues of being lax and unorganised - if David and I had actually thrown out that box four years ago where would the cat sleep now?