|Skugga, temporarily earthbound|
And then--thump, I hear, from my vain attempt to chase wordcount this morning.
What is that? I inquire, and the spouse says, It came from the kitchen.
And lo! Perched 7 feet above the floor, beside the cat carrier (kept high and out of sight, to spare delicate Louhi the horror of seeing it), is Skugga, looking down at me anxiously. Like, I shouldn't be up here, should I? This is like not being on the counters squared, isn't it? Are you going to yell?
I did not yell. I stared at him until, still mrping under his breath, he jumped back down and found somewhere else to be.
The athleticism of cats, man. The counter's already 3 feet off the ground. Then from there, another 4 to the top. I'm impressed. I'm also hoping he doesn't knock anything over up there. The cat carrier is soft-sided, fine if it falls. The extra beer growlers, not so much.
Another achievement unlocked: my SFWA membership was approved. If that seems odd, me writing that under the bit about my cat's jumping adventures, it's because I don't know what to say. I mean, it's a big deal to me. A huge deal. It marks in my mind that I'm actually here, now, a professional in the field that matters most to me. And yet--I am no more, or less, of a writer today than I was yesterday. (Less, actually. Yesterday I managed to get shit written. Today, I am posting pictures of cats. So.) I don't know if I should feel more legitimate or not, but... I do. I also feel like I've gotten myself somewhere totally cool and that someone's going to notice me up there any minute and come stare me back down.