I read today that apparently one third of people who die from a second heart attack do so on a day when the atmospheric pressure falls or rises by more than 10 millibars. Another third die within two hours of waking on a Monday morning. And the final third die within two hours of having sex.
I don't know if that's true or not, but if I wake up next Monday and it looks like rain, there's no way I'm going near Lisa.
Talking of the weather, we're now well into March, the temperature's soaring, and Spring has well and truly sprung (don't argue with me on that point - it'll undermine this entire post). So here on the sunny south coast that can mean only one thing...
___________ Saturday _______________________ Today
Notice how she took up half the sofa at the weekend. Notice how now she... um... doesn't. Notice how I triumphantly managed to avoid cutting off her whiskers this time. And notice how the burning hot sun which was pouring through the window on Saturday afternoon seems to have mysteriously vanished since I shaved off all her fur. But hey, I'm sure vets charge less to treat hypothermia than sunstroke.