My favorite sewing scissors and shears live here:
I try to put them away at the end of each day. Still, I am only human and I suppose an occasional lapse does occur: One of those lapses happened last night when I left my favorite scissors here:
Enter Tabasco, fleeing her bed while her parents prepare to take over that real estate that, during the day she claims for herself: rumpling the sheets, squirming around trying to get comfortable, wishing each other a good night, and all those things that humans do and which cats find to be an affront to their territorial rights. The ironing board is her bedtime resting place, out of the way yet close enough so that she can hear when the ruckus has settled down and she can sneak back into bed, feigning indifference.
But on this night temptation lies in wait on the sewing board. Shiny metal objects are lying there. Who knows what will happen? What cat can resist the temptation to push those shiny metal things over the edge of the ironing board and watch what happens when they hit the floor?
Clang! Bang! Clatter! Mom is out of bed! She makes loud unintelligible (if you are a cat) noises which don’t sound at all encouraging. Miss cat runs away. Mom picks up the scissors, puts them away, and goes, grumbling, back to bed.
…
It is not until the next morning that she notices that they no longer close all the way to the tip and are useless for cutting fabric. It looks like a trip to the hospital will be in order.
The second caftan is done. Today has been a busy day filled with music, laughter, and dinner with friends. There will be time for pictures tomorrow.