It's time to jump - no, that's a bit too boisterous - gently step back into the Popo fray. I'll catch up on the work stuff (city things, IP, Mavericks, business stuff) over the next few days, so if you've been waiting on any of that, I'm (almost) on it. Didn't have the will or concentration levels to do it this past week.
And so life goes on. But very quietly. I go out, there's no cat running out the door with me. I come home, there's no welcoming committee. I cook and eat, and there's no kitty persuading me that he really needs to eat now too as a matter of some urgency, and no paw appears stealing stuff from my plate. It rains, and there's no soggy figure hurrying in the cat flap, complaining loudly about how awful the weather is. Random house noises don't have a feline source. Random shapes caught in the corner of the eye don't solidify into cat form. It's quite shit really.
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My boy died yesterday. We had sixteen years together, fourteen of those just the two of us, and I'm not taking it terribly well. Coming up with new words hurts, so I'll just point you to a twitter thread instead. And then get back to the crying.
(Don't expect me to be much use on Popo any time soon - logging in, clicking here and there, but that's it) |
AuthorRuler of the Universe, antipodean sector Archives
April 2024
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