Not much has been going on, aside from the work boredom. I went online to go gift shopping and got nowhere with that. I'm very indecisive, plus I got sidetracked looking at shoes.
I really like these, even though they're orange (orange wedges, no less), go with nothing I own, and appear to be rimmed with felt grass.
I don't think I really like these, but they crack me up. They're only available in a women's five, so if you know someone who wears a size five shoe and likes cows, send them this link.
(Aside from cows, is anyone who reads this a size five? Please speak up if so. My friend Angela and I were trying to think of someone who is, and we failed. I just want to know you're out there. Hi!)
Wallace update: We blocked his access to underneath the recliner chair. We felt bad about robbing him of his hidey hole, but it seemed inevitable that he would get hurt down there. Plus, we wanted our chair back. He retreated to his second-favorite hiding place, the kitchen cabinet. He looked awfully cute peering out behind the food processor, but that didn't seem like the safest place either, for him or our food preparation.
So we now have a wood block screwed over the hole beneath the dishwasher, another wood block jammed up under the chair, and spatulas holding all the cabinet doors shut. Eric says it looks like we're bracing for an elf invasion. Wallace says nothing, just glares at us reproachfully from underneath this table or that. Come on, feral cat who was ripped from everything you've ever known to live in a little house where your attempts to get comfortable are thwarted at every turn, why you gotta be so touchy?