NIght Owl and the Pussy-cat.
I’m too tired to
write anything much of note today, partly because I’ve had a lot on and partly
because I keep going to bed too late at the moment.
It doesn’t help
that I tend to get sucked in by my cat who - like now - chooses to sit on me in
the evening and fall asleep on my lap for as long as physically possible if I’d
let her. It’s nice to have her company and she’s always comforting, but I do
let her keep me up for longer than I should.
Part of the
problem today was she’d spent much of the afternoon while I was rehearsing my
show pestering me to sit down. She’s a creature of habit, who expects things to
happen at certain times of the day, and there’s definitely a point late
afternoon when she’d expect me to be on the sofa with her if I’m at home; God forbid
I mess with the system.
Speaking of runs,
I enjoyed going over my show today, which was slightly surprising, considering
the last time I did it I had an annoyingly crap review. Somehow, having had a
bit of space has allowed me to look at it afresh I remember I’m actually
quite proud of it. It doesn’t matter what one person thinks when so many
other people have enjoyed it.
But now the time
has come to go to bed; I’ve got more work to do for the show and for Mostly
Comedy tomorrow, plus I’m going to visit my dad in hospital. Tonight, my cat’s
going to have to listen to me.