flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
Oh, for the days of lounging around the house sipping champagne in a bias silk robe with spectacular feather trim. I know, I know, the thirties were only like that for a very specific subset of people, but let me have my dreams.
Although, since I have a cat, I’m not sure that feather trim would last very long. And I don’t particularly care for champagne. And I can lounge for, like, 15 minutes max before I need a book or a hobby or something. As it happens, my paternal grandmother was very much the silk robe and giant cocktail ring type, and she did have cats, although they were almost always white longhaired showcat-style cats (not actual showcats, just that type) and probably less playful/bloodyminded than Charlie. I have a feeling Grandma Judy was a rather fun lady if you knew her as an adult, although I don’t believe she cared much for children, and by the time I knew her she was already pretty much gone to Alzheimer’s.
Still, her ridiculous jewelry collection kind of speaks for her. Definitely a Sadie Doyle. Clink!