It. Is. Still. Gray. And. Drizzly. Only now it’s warm and drizzly instead of cold and drizzly. Everyone is starved for sunshine. I’ve been wanting to take Sigyn to the zoo for weeks, but we haven’t had a sunny day since the New Year began.
Still, every dark, damp cloud has a silver lining, and the good thing about all this gray, miserable weather, is that the human female has been sick and she is currently mute, except for that horrid cough.
I’m bored, and since it’s too wet to go exploring outside, Sigyn and I have decided to see what
mischief adventures we can get up to closer to home. Today we shall brave…. the Human Female’s Desk!
Our first find is: Food! No surprise there. She’s always gobbling something.
Help yourself. She doesn’t need another snack anyway, especially a salty one. She’ll just swell up like a balloon.
Great Frigga’s hairpins! Look at the clutter on this corner of the desk! There must be a hundred sticky notes and bits of paper. Doesn’t she ever tidy this up? Ugh! And that page-a-day! Kitteh-speak! I may hurl.
Sigyn is entranced by the picture of the man in the snow. Dearest, that is a Yule album. That should give you some idea of when the last time was the human female put anything away.
Fisi! What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay home today! Then again, a slavering hyena couldn’t make this piece of real estate any less of a pig-sty, so knock yourself out.
Hmm. What’s this in front of the keyboard? A hurried jotting of a discount code that the human female could have applied to the two dozen stools she just ordered from this exact same vendor. . .
. . .Had she not ordered them on the seventeenth. What’s the rest of that scribbling? Sigyn says it’s a genetics problem involving eye color in fruit flies. I don’t know… That’s a lot of X’s and males and females… I think she’s planning an orgy. That could get her fired! I’d better put this on her boss’ desk.
Ooo! What is this thing?
It’s round and woody and hollow, like a little pot.
And it’s full of these weird, hard-coated wedges.
It’s either some new-fangled human-feeder, like the pellet machines at petting zoos or those treat balls that make a dog work for its noms, or the fruit of some member of the Lecythidaceae. I’d say all are equally likely.