Miss F. with cat whiskers leftover from a party earlier in the the day.

After sort of dragassing through most of last week, I pulled myself together enough to carve exactly one pumpkin on Sunday.

I did the heavy lifting of scooping out the guts, before I was interrupted by a phone call from my mother regarding plates.

I handed the design and carving work over to Mark and Freyja and they did me proud with a traditional jackO'lantern, nothing fancy here no special tools required. 

Maxwell refused to participate this year, so there you are.

We have one carved pumpkin and that may well be it. 

My friend Lily told me about someone that died from sleep apnea at 34, which made me think twice about getting my sleep/snoring/gaspingforbreath issue checked out, but our stupid insurance had a clause about anything to do with sleep being uncovered, so that made me think thrice.

I figure I am getting about three hours a night with the waking up, the insomnia and the axiety associated with it all.

Doesn't make for a really festive mood.

I put out some of my nicer Halloween decorations, things I haven't put out since having Freyja and the cat.

I figure they are both old enough now not to tear shit up, but who knows.

I have become positively Zen about my stuff getting broken since having both of them come to live with me.

The little girl dressed as a bat, in the bowl, I myself broke the last time I put her out.  I had hung her on a willow branch and she sort of glanced off and crashed against the vase before I could catch her.

She is that super delicate imitation mercury glass, from Germany, that I am so partial to.

If I had a lot of money and no cat, I would have a lot of birds made from that material, but instead I have one, that I treat like a museum piece.