Last night I got home from work to find this:
oh! it five o'clock alreadys? rodgder just...trying catch snowflakes. or being supriize. yes. rodgder practice suprise face.
He had rolled himself up in the blanket I had sloppily left on the couch. Hey, I live alone, who's gonna notice? Except everyone on the Internet.
i a burrito.
In other cute kitten news, and then I promise I will talk about something else, but COME ON. Look at him. Anyway, in other cute kitten news, you know how the dogs like to play and almost murder each other every night.
They were doing that last night, and the way it usually begins is Edsel bites one of Lu's back legs to get her riled up.
I tried to photograph this event, but they move kind of fast.
Anyway, Roger was on top of the couch watching Edsel pull pull pull Lu's back leg, and Lu would HRRRR and show her teefs, and then they would roll all over the floor and make "Ima kill you" noises.
I worried this would scare Roger, who did look a little...taken aback. But when things quieted down and Lu was sitting on the couch? Roger carefully crept over there and bit Tallulah on the leg.
I'm sure it would have incited a bit dramatic throwdown if Tallulah had even noticed it.
But that is not why I gathered you all here today. Today we are gonna pretend we're rich.
I mean, maybe you ARE rich. Maybe you are Barry Gibb reading this, with your 13 bathrooms. I know it is sad that I know how many bathrooms Barry Gibb has, and yet I am a real editor now and cannot ever remember what a gerund is. So okay, if you're rich already you can play too.
If you were rich and could have any job you wanted, what would it be? I mean, your first instinct might be, I would not work at all. I'd sit around on my itchy hind parts (if you did not read yesterday's comments you missed how MANY in-need-of-a-cream readers I have) and do nothing.
Perhaps you would want to just stay home and kiss kittens all day. But maybe that would get boring, or maybe there is a rule that everyone has to work at something, but it doesn't matter what because money is no object.
Now for me? When I lived in Seattle, for awhile I lived in this neighborhood called Fremont, and they had a lovely bridge there. Sometimes when you were running late, you'd have to wait for them to LIFT the dang bridge so a big boat could pass.
Here is the bridge I was talking about. I adore the Internet. Anyway, do you see those blue columns there? A man sat up in the far one, all day, and his job was to lift the bridge when it was needed.
That's it! He sat up there alone all day, reading his book or whatever, till HOOOOONK! a boat would say Hi, I need to come through now.
So that would be my job. I later was told you need an engineering degree to be that guy, which ticks me off. Is there anything I could get less than an engineering degree?
++++++++++++++
Roger just walked across the keyboard. Apparently he was nonplussed. Or extra plussed.
So maybe Mr. Fancy Engineer does NOT get to read a book all day in his tower. But if you DID get to, that would be my dream job.
My old boss in Seattle, who was all high-pressure fancy suit corporate lingo boss, said he'd like the job of walking around emptying the parking meters. He said it just looked so peaceful.
I know of one guy who quit everything to be a mushroom farmer, because he was sick of the rat race and all that, and you know what? Mushroom farming is apparently really stressful. You have to be all just so with the soil and everything, which kills me because how many times have you had mushrooms grow places you totally did not want them to? Yet you have to be all PRECISE to really grow them on purpose? Who knew?
Okay, so what would you do? Do tell.
