Taking Poetry Out Of Context

Today is the first day in ages when it's sunny and not raining. It is a Friday, however, which means that I'm sitting indoors, at work. At least there's T.S.Eliot to keep me company, and quite amusing and edifying company at the moment, I must say.

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.

I still have sore muscles in my legs, which sadly isn't because I've been excercising in any way, but probably because I've had to wrap myself around a cat in the bed for the past week. He insists on curling up in the crook of my knees in the evening, and just grows in length and witdh during the night so I end up hanging halfway out of bed by morning. And of course it is impossible to ask a cuddly, purring cat not to lie in your bed at night, warming your feet.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"

I dared last night, and dyed my hair again; it's now a nice reddish mahagonny. I just wish the colour hadn't dyed my scalp as well, it looks weirdly spotted. But I guess that will come off in a few days, as will the smell of chemicals.

The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Where all loves end

The roses would need a few days of warmth and sunshine as much as myself. The peonies, however, are again in their striking bloom, red and white and pink and so heavy with flowers that they bend to the ground. I picked two flowers today and brought them with me to work; if I can't be outside, I'll bring outside inside with me.

Tick or Teat

Every time the cat comes out of the garden, I cuddle and pet him, because I'm glad he's back, to reaffirm the pet / owner bond (though who here is the pet and who the owned is debateable), and lastly because with spring and early summer come ticks. And since the cat has a rather thick fur, those ticks hide in there for a while before falling off dead due to Frontline.
Sometimes, an intrepid tick will bite him anyway, and has to be removed. I hate that; those little things make my skin crawl. So I search through the cat's fur for those tell-tale bumps, asking myself, "Tick or Teat?"
Because if I get it wrong, the cat will take my hand off. And who'll feed him then?