Welcome to the Hall of Judgment

I still have two feral cats in my bathroom. Every evening I bring my laptop in and sit on the floor and either work or watch a show while I try to get them to maybe consider that the person who brings them food and fresh towels is not as evil as they think. Mostly the only thing that happens is that my butt gets sore from sitting on the hard floor, but I have been able to reach over and slowly touch both of them a few times. They weren't exactly happy about it, but they put up with it.

While baby Tonic will often look at different things, generally I get two hours of Bathtub Gin giving me the most judgmental stare in the universe.

Is that scene really good enough? Really? Are you sure?

Yesterday I sat in there and watched some art detectives show. (Was the random ugly painting on slats of wood done by some famous Flemish painter I'd never heard of? I keep trying to imbibe culture but honestly I'd rather put a picture of dogs playing poker on my wall.) After an hour I'd bored them both to sleep. I think that's a good thing since it means they aren't completely freaked out by me. I decided I'd had enough culture and turned off the show and now I'll never know if the ugly painting was an expensive ugly painting or not.

In other news, I just found out that the Hubbard squash I have growing in the garden is supposed to be about twenty pounds when fully grown.

The squash that may take over the world

I may not need to leave my house for a while after that thing is done.