The lyf so short

Jörg's mother and I have worked on the house for hours... but we're finally done for the day.
Moi: "So, you want to stay for a beer?"
Mother-in-law: "Nah, it's time to return to my cat. Besides, they're beheading Anne Boleyn tonight."
Moi: ...
MIL: "Oh dear, that sounds wrong, doesn't it?"

... yes. A little.

>:D

- - -
In other news, the kittens brought another mouse today. No idea what kind, but it put up an interesting fight. That is, perhaps it just reacted in fear, but it certainly impressed the cats: Whenever Mr. Darcy bent forward to bite it, it jumped up on its hind legs with a high squeak. Which scared Darcy so he jerked back, and the mouse relaxed. Then Darcy went forward again, and the mouse jumped again, etc ad nauseam, until it took a chance and disappeared in the snow, leaving two frustrated cats...

With all the mice saved by the snow these days, Herne the Hunted is probably growing rather more powerful. I mean, if so many the little furry creatures that would normally end up as a wet squawk and send frantic prayer to whoever sympathises, and then suddenly they don't end up as a wet squawk, that really builds faith, right?

*is hooked on The Folklore of Discworld, shut up*

- - -
Full moon + snow = INSANELY bright night. You could go for a walk in the woods, it's that bright.
... you know, I think I will go for a walk in the woods.

Once they beheaded Anne Boleyn, that is.
>_>