I woke to much cuteness this morning when my alarm went off. Hobkin was curled up under my chin, snoozing peacefully. But I had to get up; the alarm was insistent about it. Except every time I started to move, the fuzzwit would burrow his nose deeper into my neck, paralyzing me with fluffy cuteness. I tried pushing the covers off; he snuggled in more firmly. After several similar efforts, I sighed, pet him, and waited, hoping he'd fall into a deeper sleep so I could escape. When I finally had to get up, I tried to substitute my warm shape with that of my pillow's. Didn't work of course. Hobkin immediately noticed the switch, awakened, and stared up at me with hurt recrimination in his little eyes. I felt so guilty I gave him a cookie before heading for the shower.
I'm a total sucker, aren't I?
In amusing news, the skunk show britzkrieg and I went to got a nice write-up in Creative Loafing.
Started on my review for Tangent of this week's Sci-Fiction offering.
Word count: 500 on the SF piece. Entering the climax of the story, and I am massively underwhelmed by how it's going. Hoping that something better will occur to me than the tripe I've currently got planned for an ending. Bah.
Club 100 for Writers