The feral cats are settling in now that they have the run of the whole house. Contrary to my expectations, they are both fine with the dogs, fine with the other cats, fine with the new Roomba, and fine with being inside. What they're not fine with is me, yet again proving that I'd make a terrible Disney princess. Gin starts growling the minute I enter any room she's in. Tonic just skitters away. I do hear them playing during the night, though, so I think they're doing okay.
The new Roomba is probably cursing its luck in being sent here, but it really does cut down on the fur tumbleweeds blowing around the place. The first time I deployed it, it had to return to its fainting couch twice to recharge before finishing. That day it also hogtied itself with sisal unraveling from a cat tree, and had an existential crisis in my bedroom, so it felt like I had just adopted another special-needs pet that needed constant monitoring. Since then it's been doing better, and only got stuck once today when it pushed the bathmat around and blocked the bathroom doorway so it couldn't leave the room.
The big dog and I have been running a few times a week. Using the track across the street has really cut down on the number of times I trip over cracks in the sidewalk, though it's probably a little boring for the dog. My average time has been dropping though I still have a long way to go before I make a 10 minute mile. Maybe I should have started training before I hit fifty. Eh, whatever.
And finally, National Novel Writing Month starts on Friday. No, I don't have all the scenes mapped out yet. I was planning on getting that done this weekend, but I've spent a bunch of time working or thinking about work. Jokes on them, though, because maybe I'll get the plot done during the work week!
Guido and Georgie, not wanting to hang out together, but both too stubborn to move.