So, this blogging thing

I promised a post, didn't I? Well, it's not looking good for anything of substance. I got a late start to the day, and I'm still catching up. And yes, the more observant of you will notice that I've apparently found the time to doodle since my Illustration Friday thumbnail has already shown up on the sidebar, but that was just because I was waiting to change laundry loads and my father's headed-towards-geriatric computer had hung up during its scan. What else to do but doodle, really?

As for topic, work's out at the moment because work's been the main reason I haven't been blogging and I don't want to think about all the work stuff I still need to get done because IT'S THE WEEKEND (you know, in case you hadn't noticed). Besides, bad news about a coworker's boyfriend's brain cancer has kind of put a damper on the workplace at the moment.

So that leaves me?

Oh, how about the cat. The cat who's sitting on my foot in the pointless photo. And why is he sitting on my foot? Well, because that's what he does. I don't ask why.

Want to know what else he does?

He makes my mornings... interesting when I'm here at my father's place.

I generally go to bed earlier than my dad because I wake up at stupid o'clock and I pretty much have to go to bed earlier. I close my door but don't latch it, because I know that if I latch it I'll be woken up by the sound of a cat's paw reaching under the door to scratch the other side. And he does that why? Because he knows it wakes me up, I imagine. If it's unlatched, at least all he does is lean into it hard enough that it bangs open. Waking me up, yes.

He'll usually visit me at least once before Dad goes to bed. He'll want to be petted (or as I refer to it, serviced), but in the past year or so he's finally figured out that he should just go away if I'm ignoring him. Before that, he'd climb up on top of me and stare. For ages.

He's good at staring, is Max.

So, on to mornings. Usually sometime around three o'clock I'll feel a cat jump on the bed. If I'm awake, that is, but I'm often a little bit awake at three because I have stupid brain. Anyway, the cat jumps on the bed and stares. You can just tell that he's staring, even if you're facing the other way. Did I mention that he's good at staring? It used to be that he'd stand there staring for what seemed like forever, but nowadays it's just a few minutes before he decides that nothing's going on and he leaves.

We'll repeat the same thing about five o'clock.

And probably again at six, by which time I'm definitely and irretrievably awake. Stupid brain is no fun, folks.

All this time he will have been ignored, because no cat needs servicing at stupid o'clock in the morning. Unfortunately (or fortunately for him), generally before six thirty I'll have to get up to go to the bathroom.

The cat will be innocently "sleeping" on the couch in the living room.

When I leave the bathroom he'll still be "sleeping", and yet somehow he manages to make it back to my bedroom before I do.

So... I'll briefly go back to bed, the cat will fling himself down beside me, and he'll have his belly rubbed because he's decided that belly rubbing is my job. He never asks Dad for a belly rub. But then, he never actually sleeps with me. That's Dad's job, to keep the cat company at night.

Yes, we've been assigned jobs by the cat.

Have I already said that this happens every morning when I'm here? Every single morning?





He's quite the cat, is Max.

And apparently can cause blog posts to materialise.

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Today's World Drawing Day, everyone. Check out the website for details. I know that I've sort of already drawn something today, but I'm going to try to do something specifically Drawing Day related after I have some lunch. You should, too. It's all just about having some fun with art. Draw something, and let me know if you've posted it somewhere so that I can check it out. Or not. Just draw. That's the point.