I Have Marketable-ish Skills I Think

So for 24/24 years of my life I've expected I will make money without any effort. Effort is hard for me. This is part of the reason why I started reaching out to the unicorn community with my art because I hoped that they would support me by leaving chests of treasure beneath my doorstep.

As my service comes to an end though, I have to ponder the harsh reality that apparently surviving in this cruel world requires "work" and "endurance" and "ambition." UGHHHH. Why did God bless me with so very many unmarketable skills? I've been thinking about centering my resume around my talent of having small fingers and narrow wrists that enable me to retrieve objects that have been dropped in tight places. There's a lot of fat people in America = a lot of fat fingers = a lot of people who can't retrieve their belongings that have been dropped in tight spaces.

I've been working to "tenderize" Booomer lately. He likes chewing fingers too much and needs to start liking snuggling. He's coming along very well. He doesn't chew my fingers much anymore and he likes to crawl onto my chest and sleep there while breathing his meat paste breath into my face.

So anyway, if anyone wants to hire me, let me know.

Sara Remembers What Real Life is Like

Over the past several days, I have been holed up at a 5 star resort on the Dalmatian coast. WWWIIIINNNN. Anyway, it has really helped me remember what life was like before my life was dictated by the whims of a sassy tri-colored feline and her hamster-look-alike offspring.

It's been really nice to not wake up and immediately wonder what manner of dead kitten awaits me and to be able to eat without being stared at from the floor. Instead, my days have mostly been concerned with finding delicious ice cream, eating delicious ice cream and then having conversations about the delicious ice cream i just ate. Though I do have a disturbing habit of greeting every cat I see and inquiring about how it is enjoying the shade/sunbeam it currently sleeps in.

But not to forget about the real stars of this blog. Patches and baby Patches are-- to my knowledge-- doing fine. I emailed Uncle Matt asking if my cats were okay and he replied "...what cats." But he's a JOKESTER and has been diligently wiping away baby's conjunctivitis and squirting him in the eye with anti biotics when necessary.

Last night, I had a horrible dream that Patches had another litter (the logic in my dream was that Patches was "with man" once and then several weeks later was "with man" again, each resulting in separate conceptions and thus delaying the second batch's birth. Also there were two small puppies.) Anyway, me and Patches wandered the country side with a basketful of babies lamenting about what the heck we were going to do with 7 kittens (and two puppies). God that would be horrible.

....Okay back to sunbathing.