Daisy Looks at Shoes

I don't know when Pet Day will be, but here's a Daisy story I hope you won't find tedious.

This may be utterly shocking to you, but someone likes my shoes. And by someone, I mean Daisy. And by likes, I mean "views as prey". The rest is pretty much literal.

Saturday morning, at approximately 5:14 AM, I awakened to a very irritating sound. [You must understand that with loads of homework and an overzealous Perry who wished to eat my carpet, I had had little sleep last week. So much that sometimes I slept in (gasp) ten minutes and thus couldn't edit my blog.] Hearing this, I turned over to see Daisy nuzzling my boots.

Me: Dai-syyyyyyyyy. Nooooooooooooooooo. (obviously tired)
Daisy: *jumps backwards and crouches behind scratching post*
Me: *falls back onto mattress, groaning*
Daisy: *leaps at my ballet flats*
Me: *sigh* Daiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisy.
Daisy: *treadles ballet flat*
Me: Go awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.
Daisy: *gets bored and commences eating boot*
Me: *buries self in comforters*

How many cats like shoes? (Probably a lot more than we need to know.)

Laura's Room and Its Sign

By orders, Laura has been (gradually) cleaning her room. Innocently, I came into her room, just to find an odd sign on her billboard.

Me: What is that?
Laura: I don't know, I found it in my room.
Me: *reads it* *laughs* Can I put it on my blog?
Laura: No.
Me: Please?
Laura: Fine. *goes over to billboard and commences to read it out loud*
Me: May I please look at it?
Laura: NO.
Me: Please?
Laura: Fine.


THE SIGN:

Laura

children (check mark)
mice (check mark)
oxen (check mark)
wolves (check mark)
geese (check mark)
mysteries (check mark)

A grocery list for disaster? I think so.

L'heure de le chatton impoli!!!

A post of updates.

This morning, Periwinkle. . . :

a)Chewed on my basket.
b)Climbed up my curtains, and. . .
c). . . thus fell from the curtains onto my bin of sentimental stuff. . .
d). . . which promptly toppled over and sent Perry under my bed.
e)He then clawed up my bed-skirt.
f)Knocked down a ribbon from my tall bookshelf.
g)Knocked down a hairclip.
h)Messed up my scrapbooking shelf.
i)Was yelled at, by me.

Hair status: Duck-y.

Just finished The Murder of Rodger Ackroyd and actually got the murderer correct. Joy. I can get a job now. Hooray.

The Sims 3 Fast Lane comes out September seventh and the new Poptropica island is set to come out September ninth. I'm so excited!

***I also need to update my links bar in the sidebar. I know y'all have access to lots of interesting sites, so if you could comment below or email me them, I shall put them up!!!***

7:36 and I burned my finger.

I wake up on a Saturday morning. Cue birds, violins, etc. Rays of sunshine. Ya know.

Well, someone cued my cat. Remember this post? I should hope you do. Go reread it now. This will make more sense.

I have a pretty wicker basket in my room that I use to put books in when I finish them before bed, as opposed to slamming them on the floor. Perry thinks it tastes positively scrumptious, and it has teeny bite-marks all over it. Picture coming soon. He also likes to chew plastic to pieces, as showcased by our lovely ex-lid.

Anyway, I'd hoped Perry had grown out of his issues, but he hadn't, and came into my room at 6:15. So I messed up my artistically neat bed and, against my wishes, was forced to get up at seven. . . as I would have if my cat wasn't a psychopathic maniac.

I am very mad at my cat now, so I stumble downstairs to warm up a cinnamon roll for breakfast. However, I burn the cream cheese icing and, in my starvation and thus requirement of food, I burn myself as well. Just a little spot on the finger, but it's like a constant pain. I am not a hypochondriac/an exaggerator/dramatic.

Not bad for a morning of pain and hummingbirds.

[Like my new poll?]

My Sticky-Note Obsession

A couple of weeks ago, my mother forced me to clean my room. (See here.) I was not pleased. She was.

While I groaned and moaned, my mom organized my desk drawers. She thus discovered that the amount of Sticky Notes that I possess was larger than half the drawer. It included "E" sticky notes, heart sticky notes, sticky notes from my grandfather's health conferences, accordion sticky notes, mini sticky notes, sticky notes for school, sticky notes for home, apple sticky notes, sticky notes for lists, sticky notes for trips, sticky notes from hotels. . . the list goes on.

As my mom wedged stack after stack of sticky notes in my drawer, she began warning me about my obsession. I then reminded her about her own collection of index cards. She was suddenly satisfied with her work and ABANDONED ME in the ROOM OF GLOOM.

But yeah, I cleaned the rest of my room, and I now can sleep in peace, knowing that all ten million of my sticky notes are safe in their drawer.

I really hope my little sister collects desk dividers. . . .

My Clean Room!!!

Unfortunately, this means that I will no longer be able to use it as an excuse for getting out of potentially lethal social activities. Sigh.

My dresser and a corner of my curtains. You can also see some off my rather crummy bed. It has occurred to me that I should probably cite all photos as from my mom and sister. I NEED A CAMERA. This has semi-bad lighting; it was cloudy. Don't you just love how often I change the subject?


Here you can see my curtains and curtain rod in detail; also, paper flowers on a string that I got for my birthday. My mom made the curtains.

My lovely desk.


My bookshelf. I used to have, like, four shelves of books, but they're all in my sister's room now. Book stealer. }:( On the middle shelf, you can see my vast variety of magazines. Again, most of them are in my siblings' room. On the bottom shelf I have my intellectual stuff (government and geography books,) my notebooks, and my random craft stuff (see the Mad Libs?) all stacked up. You can also see my two French prints and my mirror-window.



There are more pictures, but these are the best. Unless you find horizontal shots of the carpet fascinating.