Apparently Pushkin and Munchkin cannot tell time, and/or they did not get the memo about Daylight Savings. You know, the whole spring forward and fall back thing. In the morning, they eat at between 5 am and 6 am. But in the evening, 5 pm is the sacred hour. They prepare for this auspicious moment by following me everywhere from about 4 pm on. If I am in my office, they just sit and stare at me.
Their concentration and devotion are such that they often remind me of the animals gathered round Baby Jesus in the manger. Today, I had to feed them at 4 pm. They refused to listen to any explanations about the benefits of Daylight Savings Time and scoffed at my suggestion that they get used to it. When Munchkin started in with the self-mutilation bit, I resisted, even when I heard her head hit something hard, which I believe was the corner of a wooden table. But when I heard a crash in the kitchen, I knew I would have to give in. This bowl -- former bowl, I guess -- is made entirely of recycled plastic. I'm sure I paid too much for it, because I bought it at Metropolitan Market. It was on sale, I hasten to add. What appealed to me was the size and the total plastic-ness of it. Perfect for those occasions when you go to someone else's for a meal and they ask you to bring a salad. I found some really great pistachio-colored tongs to go with it, also entirely plastic.
Their concentration and devotion are such that they often remind me of the animals gathered round Baby Jesus in the manger. Today, I had to feed them at 4 pm. They refused to listen to any explanations about the benefits of Daylight Savings Time and scoffed at my suggestion that they get used to it. When Munchkin started in with the self-mutilation bit, I resisted, even when I heard her head hit something hard, which I believe was the corner of a wooden table. But when I heard a crash in the kitchen, I knew I would have to give in. This bowl -- former bowl, I guess -- is made entirely of recycled plastic. I'm sure I paid too much for it, because I bought it at Metropolitan Market. It was on sale, I hasten to add. What appealed to me was the size and the total plastic-ness of it. Perfect for those occasions when you go to someone else's for a meal and they ask you to bring a salad. I found some really great pistachio-colored tongs to go with it, also entirely plastic.I don't know what Pushy was trying to prove. But I resent her lack of remorse, which is evident in the first photo. I picked up every shard of broken plastic and put the broken bowl on the table. I'm not sure my purpose was to shame Pushy. But it was not to encourage her to go and sit next to the desolated object with that look of absolute contentment, mingled with defiance.
