So as I have been grumbling away to myself about a lack of postings from a certain vivacious Victorian, and trying to determine whether I'm the cause of the Puddle of Mud comment or the consulting of the Holy Dictionary, I suddenly realized that I have been neglecting my faithful followers by completely ignoring my own blog. So here I am, back with apologies and amazement that so much time could have possibly passed so quickly.
I can't claim that anything phenomenal has happened since I last spoke to you all, other than it being very cold here as opposed to previously being very warm where I was so recently. It amazes me how quickly I have learned to love warm climates, I always have considered myself a winter person, and now I find myself longing for warmth and humidity.
It also amazes me how much damage can be inflicted by such a small animal. Katie completely disbelieved my moaning about my little holy terror dressed in a white and orange kitten suit. That is until she got to arrive at my house periodically to view the utter destruction first hand. Now she believes.
I found out the answer to a previously unanswerable mystery though. Rotten likes to tip over the garbage can in the bathroom and haul all of the kleenex out of it. I originally thought this was only so she could find the q-tips to poison the water supply with, but have learned that is only part of the equation. I was in the bathroom the other day and chuckled to myself as Janet watched in amazement as the toilet paper went round and round in circles as it flushed. Once it was gone she continued to stand there and sort of looked at me with the occasional grumble. I left the room briefly and heard the tell tale sound that reminds me I need to keep the bathroom door closed. Sure enough, I returned to the bathroom to find an overturned waste basket and a kitten still looking in the toilet. Strange, I thought to myself. Until I realized she had placed some of the toilet paper from the garbage can into the toilet, and was now waiting for it to start spinning in circles. Apparently unimpressed with the lack of movement, she fished out the toilet paper and proceeded to carry the dripping wet, falling apart bit of tp downstairs to the other toilet, dropped it in and waited expectantly again. This answers the question of "how do all those bits of cement like toilet paper get all over my house". It also answers the "why on earth does she keep doing that?" question. It does, however, make me seriously concerned about her ability to consciously plot things.
