many things make a post
magical mail

up with figs, (a hiatus)

 (Because of a variety of circumstances, Lisa and I are taking a Figs break. But! For those who just started reading the blog, I'm going to reach deep into the wayback machine and toss up some old Figs for your enjoyment.)




Every single damn time. Every time.

We’ve seen the same damn cat every morning for eight freakin’ years on the same freakin’ step with that same freakin’ mind-control freakin’ face. Eight. Years. 

Every single damn morning, Hector barks his damn head off, like Satan himself is trying to jam a red hot coal in his right damn nostril. Every. Time.


No, I don’t know the definition of insanity. 

But I do know there’s something messed up about that cat.


Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.


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