The moment the introverted female has been waiting for. It has finally arrived. We are under orders to shelter-in-place starting at midnight for three weeks.
The female is ready.
She has all of the treats we felines could ever need. We have the regular food, too
She has sufficient litter for us. We hope.
She has tasty treats for herself, mostly. (We were the love of her life so we got most of the treats. Thursday, she should receive a five pound bag of jolly ranchers, however. She will share with the male. Maybe. After she takes all the green ones for herself.)
She plans on working on Grave Humor for the next three weeks, in the hopes of mostly finishing the durned thing so it can go to the editor and be all sorts of ready for its release.
This is what I plan to do as often as possible until the shelter-in-place restrictions are lifted.
A brilliant idea, in my not-so-humble opinion.
When she isn’t hammering away at Grave Humor and taking advantage of the halted construction, the quiet, the peace, the quiet, the even more quiet, and the BLESSED SILENCE, she can be found splish-splashing in the bathtub reading… books she wrote?
Female, that’s not how this works. You’re supposed to go read books other people wrote.
Female just told me to shush! How dare she? I will get my revenge in the morning. I will knead her bladder and purr loudly, guilting her into staying put while I torture her.
I mean, I do that every morning, but I will do this more enthusiastically than normal.
For the record, she decided to re-read Shadowed Flame.
Once she is finished with Shadowed Flame, she is probably going to skip into the Royal States for some feel-good giggles, although she might hunt down Silver Shark (by Ilona Andrews) and re-read that one for the umpteenth time.
Stay safe out there, folks. We’ll be in our bunker.