Little Miss Storm Cloud went back to work today. Ah, the peace and the quiet! Trauma sponging is hard work and I'm soggy with angst. Yesterday was the worst. The wailing. The weeping. The promises. "I'll never drink wine again. Ever. Or go to parties."
I had to do it. Told her to talk to the paw. Yes. The poor ripped paw that she promised to fix weeks ago. No fix paw. No sympathy. No hug. No "bear make it all better".
I can't quite see the rip so I've jiggled about a bit and I'm not losing any fluff. Which is good. But it's a short step from "tiny tear" to "only fit for dusters".
If I can get my mitts on the credit card then I might have to take a trip. Let her look after herself. A little bit of pampering. Just what a bear needs.
Or maybe I'll just sit in the sun and watch me plants grow. Little lettuces showing up already :o)
1 comment:
Bartie Bristle looks absolutely perfect. Have you tried leaving the brochure lying around? Maybe she'll get the hint...
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