My cat is a master of disguise. 

This isn’t an actual post at all. Not even close. But I kind of set myself a new goal of posting something on here once a week and if I let my self-imposed deadline get past me even a little bit, it’s a slippery slope. 

Seriously, let my hair be an example. I bought dye weeks ago with the intention of taking care of it, but I let it get past me. And, well, now I’m still setting here looking like a calico cat. (What a segue!)

I mentioned a while back that in my old age I now require glasses to drive. I was still somewhat cocky though, because I thought I only needed them to drive. I may have been wrong, because…

A list of things I thought were my cat this week:

A shovel. 

A sack of potatoes. 

A shovel, again.

A plastic bag. 

A different but perfectly nice cat.

A different, really horrible cat. 

That stupid shovel, yet again. (Note to self: move the damn shovel.)

I’ve never felt more youthful. 

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