I’m typing to you from my bed, with my right arm/hand free to do their best, and my left arm uncomfortably squished against my body to accomodate for Isabel’s sleeping warmth. She’s curled up against me as though her life depends on it, squeezing herself into a pill bug ball while simultaneously pressing herself into my hip. It hurts, but that’s love, I guess.

Murphy sleeps just four feet away at the foot of the bed, purring happily, not a care in the world. Every now and then Izzy looks up to growl, then go back to sleep. It appears we’ve reached some kind of a truce.

Last night, after a few days of feeding them snacks face to face through a slightly opened door, then a couple of successful attempts at feeding them wet food side by side, we decided to just leave the door open between the sides of the house and see what they would do. The night before, our houseguest had accidentally let one of the cats into the other’s space, and apparently the worst that happened was some hissing, no eviscerations or anything, so it seemed it might work.

Sure enough, I was cuddling Isabel in the crook of my arm like normal last night, when I awoke to see Murphy standing over her, grooming her head. He settled in on my stomach to groom her more, with no protests, and then miracle of miracles, she started to groom him back!

There have been a couple of minor spats this morning, but it’s looking good.

One of my pets isn’t looking so good, unfortunately. I’m afraid I’ve killed Morris the Mystery Snail. He had been in the same spot in the tank for a few days, and on Saturday I decided to take a closer look. I noticed that his little hatch was half open, which I’ve seen before, but something about it looked odd. Sure enough when I went to pick him up and inspect it, not only did his hatch fall off entirely, but his little black guts dribbled out into the tank. It was definitely an upchuck-worthy moment. Of course I did a full water change for poor Simon, who did not deserve to have to swim in his dead pal’s guts.

I’m still researching to find out where I went wrong with snail ownership. They’re supposed to be quite hardy, so it’s kind of odd that I’d end up killing a snail before a betta.

Alright, I’m off. The Man and our friend AJ and I are going to get a wonderful brunch at my favorite restaurant in New Orleans, Bywater BBQ. After that, the sky’s the limit. It’s Lundi Gras Day!!!

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I’m Nova

I have no “personal brand.” I’m not a girl boss, I’m not an influencer, and I don’t aspire to be powerful, inspiring, or rich. I probably can’t teach you anything, and there’s a good chance that there’s nothing at all of interest or use to you here. This is just where I come to talk about the random bits and pieces that make up my quiet life as a sober woman in her 40s. I’m engaged to the love of my life, have six (yes, SIX) indoor pets, and spend a lot of time gardening and hunting for thrift treasures. I also study classical voice (I’m a lyric coloratura soprano) and am deeply interested in all things spiritual and paranormal. Right now I’m trying to recover from career burnout and even out my personal energy, but my eventual goal is to become a medium and shamanic healer, using music to remind humans of the things that actually matter: connection, community, and loving all living things as though they were our own children. I may or may not talk about all of these things here (and sometimes all at once). Welcome!