Feeling better. My sinuses are in full-out mutiny, and my wingstubs continue to make writing an exercise in masochism (like it isn’t anyway), but I’m better. Hobkin is sleeping beside me, his little paws twitching as he dreams. Doses of skunk cuteness always helps my general outlook.
Yesterday, the doorbell rang–the mail carrier. But instead of her scampering away before I could open the door, she was still there when I answered. She had a package I needed to sign for. I was worried about Hobkin. He was wide awake and following me around avidly, and I didn’t want to lock him away. But we haven’t experimented a lot with a prolonged open front door around him. So I kept one and a half eyes on him while I signed and took possession of the mail. Hobkin surprised me by being really good. He didn’t try to bolt or seem at all inclined to explore the wide open in front of me. He hovered at my ankles, peering (myopically) around me. He didn’t stomp or tail-up, just clung to my ankles. He was shy! The mail carrier saw him, but I wonder if it even registered with her that he was a skunk and not a cat.
Yoga. I like yoga. And ballet.
New words: 1038
On a new Chinese folktale. Halfway through it. Nothing like instant gratification. Well, nearly instant.