30 May, 2010

Sundays are for pancakes and lie-ins.

That's right, folks. Although, my morning wasn't quite as straightforward as the title might imply...

Having woken up around six to chaos in the flat due to a moggie-chase (knocking over silver candlesticks in the fireplace was a sure fire way to guarantee human companionship) I managed to doze off until eight. Upon waking, I made myself a proper coffee in the cafetiere, something I rarely bother with as freeze-dried is so much easier, but hell, it's Sunday and I'm feeling indulgent. Upon Himself's arrival into the Land of Consciousness (how did he sleep through the feline fracas???), I decided to make pancakes, unaware of the fact that he had chucked out the eggs the night before. *lol* My tummy just wouldn't settle for cereal after pancakes had been optioned, so I toddled off down the shops in search of chicken fruits.

Eggs procured, I made the pancakes, slathered them in peanut butter and chopped banana in case you were wondering, then decided back to bed was the order of the day. I gathered Rand al'Thor in a loving embrace and settled in for a relaxing read. This wouldn't have been an issue, except... there was A Fly in the house. This was not to be tolerated by the furry four leggeds, and yet another high speed chase ensued.

During this bout, Kit discovered newly achievable heights...

... which led to Himself having to extricate her from the blinds as once she'd attained the window ledge she couldn't quite figure out the getting down part.

That said, Kit caught The Fly, maimed it so it couldn't fly away again, and was settling down to eat it when Himself's squeamish sensibilities kicked in and he tissued and binned it. Not A Happy Kit.

On an even more amusing note, guess what I found this morning? Himself had a gray hair. *grin* His first. And I say "had", because he didn't believe me it was there, which forced me to pull it and brandish it's ghostliness about an inch away from his nose. His retort? A sheepish grin accompanied by "it's blonde." Let me assure you, dear readers, it's NOT blonde. For the attention of the court, ladies and gentlemen, The Hair.

See how nicely it shows up against the black of my camera strap? That, friends, is a gray hair. Not blonde. Gray.

So, now that you're all caught up with the minutiae of our Sunday morning, go enjoy yours. Make real coffee, it's worth it. x

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