Cold weather, and August, and some affected rambling.

[juushika]

Y'all, I am cold. I am cold and closing the windows (partway) and I am wearing my robe when I run into the bathroom because it's cold out there too. The cat was a bit early today and so we have half an hour to kill before I feed her, and I think I'll spend it huddled up and reading. But first I can turn on my heat-emitting electrical device and check my email without giving a second thought to whether or not I should risk upping the temperature in the room by a few degrees.

Yesterday August jumped up on my bed and circled around looking aimless and lost until I dug out my modal top sheet, which was bundled under the grand pile that is my bedding, and plopped it down for her. Then she curled up on it and gave it a brief kneed, and then went to sleep. Yes, totally my cat. This morning she's playing the "I love you aaaalmost more than I love food so please feed me now" routine. I no longer have the same desperation for her love that I used to, the starting anxiety, the fear that every moment mattered most and could go wrong. But the magic hasn't worn off. I still look at her when she sleeps and I can feel my heart in her not-so-little body, an E.E. Cummings inversion. I overflow with love and that surfeit is hers. I give it all to her, to my ridiculous cat.

Although August would like to know: if that be the case, why then do I insist on starving her to death?