Isabella can be a bit of a needy diva at times—lovable, adorable, and absolutely convinced that my entire existence revolves around her schedule. This morning she woke me up just before 5 a.m., demanding breakfast with all the urgency of someone who had not been fed in minutes. I obliged, of course, and then crawled straight back into bed. I was originally supposed to be in the office this morning, but my class got rescheduled, which means a work-from-home day for me.

I fell asleep again almost instantly and drifted into the loveliest dream. In it, I was snuggled up next to a very handsome man—the kind of hot guy who makes your subconscious say, “Yes, let’s stay here.” He was straight in the dream, but we were sharing a bed anyway. Somehow the night had ended with us in nothing but our underwear, my head on his bare chest, his arm around me, the whole moment soft and warm and unexpectedly intimate.

When we woke up like that, dream-me stayed blissfully half asleep until he leaned down, kissed the top of my head, and murmured, “Good morning, lazy bones.” I made one of those half-asleep groans that means, I refuse to move, and he just pulled me closer. We drifted back to sleep like that—sweet, slow, and yes, very arousing. I was rock hard in the dream… and in real life, too. It was that good.

But of course, Isabella does not approve of me going back to bed once she has declared morning officially underway. After her first breakfast, she decided she needed my attention—or, more accurately, a second breakfast. Instead of enjoying more of my dream, I was summoned back to consciousness by a diva cat with very firm beliefs about my responsibilities.

And now? Isabella is curled up in the corner of the living room sound asleep, looking perfectly content, while I’m sitting on the couch writing this post.

Sigh.

Sometimes I wonder who’s actually in charge around here—but I already know the answer.

Today is a work-from-home day, and I’ve officially flipped the switch into cozy weekend mode. I’m off all next week, which feels wonderfully luxurious, and I can’t help daydreaming about hopping up to Montreal for a little adventure. Maybe one day soon. For now, I’ll settle for a quiet house, soft pajamas, and a cat who insists she’s the one really in charge of my schedule.

We’re expecting ice and snow this weekend, so I’ll likely be tucked safely inside—curled up with Isabella, who loves cold weather only because it means I become her heated mattress.

Wherever you find yourself this weekend, I hope it’s warm, gentle, and filled with small comforts. Stay safe, stay cozy, and enjoy every minute.

Here’s a pic of Isabella relaxing in my lap:

I’ve been so busy and stressed at work lately that I’m truly grateful to have the day off today. I have a few tentative plans, and if things work out, I might tell you about them tomorrow. For now, I don’t have much to say—just enjoying the rare luxury of a quiet morning.

Isabella was kind enough to let me sleep until almost 5 a.m., though she started halfheartedly trying around 4. Here’s this week’s Isabella Pic of the Week. Every time I see this picture, I think, “I am cat, hear me roar,” to the tune of Helen Reddy’s I Am Woman.

(Secret: She’s just yawning. 🥱 Isabella is a very quiet cat.)

Usually I look forward to Fridays, but not this week. I’m not even looking forward to Saturday. This weekend brings with it our big annual set of events at the museum, which means lots of tours, lots of visitors, and lots of chaos. Today I have multiple tours lined up, and tomorrow I’ll be back again for one or two more—yes, working on a Saturday. Yesterday I put in a twelve-hour day, came home, and went straight to bed. This morning I’m running on sheer habit and coffee.

If there’s a silver lining, it’s that today will “only” be an eight-hour day and tomorrow about six. That may not sound like much of a break, but after the marathon that was yesterday, it’s something to be thankful for. Really, I’ll only feel relief when Sunday finally rolls around and I can rest, free from the craziness and hoopla.

And here is your Isabella Pic of the Week. This is the look I get when I’m not petting her as much as she thinks I should. Normally she likes to curl up on my hip, but with my back problems she hasn’t been able to. Instead, she’s taken to lying on my chest. It’s her version of cuddling, and honestly, I’ll take it.

Anxiety and depression are bad enough on their own, but stress makes everything feel so much worse. I truly love my job, but lately I dread going to work. My boss has created a hostile workplace. One moment she can seem nice, the next she reveals a total lack of emotional intelligence—no empathy, no compassion, no sympathy. Her passive-aggressive behavior is some of the worst I’ve ever seen. People have warned me before about writing this here, worrying that she might stumble across my blog. Honestly? At this point, I don’t fucking care. If she does, she’ll either delight in knowing she’s making my life miserable or maybe, just maybe, she’ll take a hard look at how she treats her employees.

I won’t go into details about the latest mess, but she’s currently refusing to make even the smallest accommodation for my back and leg pain until she has a note from my doctor—even though I’ve told her over and over that it has to go through HR. I have zero control over how quickly they do their jobs.

And if the back pain and migraines weren’t enough, I’ve now got a sore throat on top of it all. I have to drag myself in today because I’m working from home tomorrow (thank God!) and need to prepare for a class on Monday.

In the meantime, here’s Isabella—curled up, cozy, and oblivious to the world. Sometimes I wish I was a cat, able to just cuddle up with my human and sleep all day. Honestly, I’d even settle for just cuddling with another human right now.

Some mornings, the words just don’t want to come. Today is one of those mornings. I thought maybe I’d write an art history post, but nothing has clicked yet. Maybe tomorrow inspiration will strike, but today, I’m drawing a blank.

Part of the problem is that work has been so busy lately as I catch up from when I was out. Yesterday was productive—I actually managed to get quite a bit done—but by the time I got home, I was wiped out. It felt like I had run a marathon without leaving my desk. Of course, there’s still plenty more to tackle today. Somehow the pile never gets smaller, it just rearranges itself into new and interesting shapes.

Right now, though, I don’t exactly feel like conquering that pile. I’m sitting here, yawning, wishing energy would magically appear. But I also haven’t had coffee yet, and let’s be honest—without coffee, I’m basically running on fumes. A cup or two might just be the miracle cure. Isabella has already had her breakfast and is now looking far more content and energized than I feel. I swear that cat has better time management than I do. Her daily schedule mostly consists of sleeping, staring out the window at the birds, eating a snack, and then fitting in a few more naps before starting the whole cycle over again.

So here’s to coffee, to productivity (hopefully), and to finding a spark of inspiration when it decides to arrive. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have an art post to share, but for now, I’ll just share the honest truth of a sleepy morning trying to find its rhythm.