Things done:

[arliss]

Watered all plants, pulled all yellowed leaves off living plants, and stripped dead leaves off possibly still living plants. Will cut back stems and hope for the best. Will also give lemongrass a haircut to remove dead material.

Filled and partially de-scummed fountain basin, outdoors. Refilled indoor fountain. Washed all cat dishes and refilled the water dishes. Refilled dry food.

Unpacked Katie B.'s lavender and laid the stems on plastic and paper towels in the AC stream to dry, sifted loose florets into plastic and paper towel lined flat basket, also put in AC stream to dry. Will toss and turn both so they dry evenly. Will attempt to make at least one wand before the stems are completely dry. But better dry and saved for use than moldy and wasted from damp.

Scrubbed toilet. The less said, the better.

Removed shoes (not mine) from bathroom floor, except obligatory pair for traditional cat greeting ceremony.

Begun unpacking, while remembering and sorting memories for entries about the weekend past.

Caught up on LJ and am working on TableTalk cats thread and PF. B.org yet to come.

Things not done:

Visited Mom. Haven't heard her moving about, and she hadn't taken the paper in. She's probably sleeping late. -Er than usual.

Completely unpacked.

Vacuumed floor. Which is in dire need.

Slept enough. May nap later.

Comments

[charlotte-buff.livejournal.com]

Removed shoes (not mine) from bathroom floor, except obligatory pair for traditional cat greeting ceremony.

Um...huh? Please to elaborate.

And my suitcase is still only half unpacked in the middle of the living room.

[fufaraw]

Any time one of the humans enters the bathroom, the cat lies down beside Dad's shoes and proffers a belly for rubbing. But whenever we've been out, TC greets us at the door, then sprints for the bathroom, where he flings himself down by Dad's shoes, and proceeds to bite, chew, kick, and try to stick his entire head into one or both shoes, while the human energetically skritches his back and rubs his belly, crooning, "Shoooz! Yes! Dad's shoes! Dad's shoes will save me! Get the shoes! Dad's shoes, Dad's shoes!"

No shoes will do, you see, but H's. Mine are a pale reflection which will suffice in the absence of Dad's, but apparently they're not nearly as redolent and odiferous as his, thus not as powerful an attractant.

Yes, we are loons. Why do you ask?