My slippers have been thoroughly chewed. Time to move on. Daddy’s feet are bigger, so his slippers might last a bit longer.
Chewing my eyeliners, powder brushes and hand cream tubes seems like a hint: Brian will love me no matter how bad I look. Well, at least I interpret it as such.
I’m now pretty sure he’s an animal lover. I’m finding various creatures buried in the blankets on the sofa. All alive, slightly startled when I fish them out-like the beetle I put on the table in order to take a photo of it (to be used as evidence and because I’m a cruel, cruel person who disturbs beetles sleeping on the sofa).
Lily likes him. She looks down on him (metaphorically, as he’s growing every day) because he’s clumsy and scared of stuff, but she likes being a boss and you can’t really be a proper boss when you only have two obnoxious cats.
Despite our efforts and vacuuming at least twice a day the house is seriously messy. And it’s fine. Our lives are in order.