Ten. Whole. Weeks.
Now let's see...
Ten times seven, multiply that by twenty-four, then multiply by sixty, carry the four, multiply by sixty again, and then multiply the whole shebang by nine, and...
Fifty-four million, four hundred and thirty-two thousand seconds, in cat time.
Yes, my friends, the peeps and I have been home alone for a very, very long time.
Okay, so technically we haven't been home for the entire ten weeks.
Well I have, of course, 'cause I'm a good kitty, but Peepers goes out once a week for groceries and on occasion ventures out maybe once more to go to the bank or the post office or pick up stuff at the vets and things like that. Last week she went all the way to a nursery to get a couple plants but they didn't have what she needed so she totally wasted her one allotted additional trip, and therefore this comin' week, she'll be doin' groceries, once, and that's it. That's all she's allowed, you see.
And technically, we haven't been home alone for ten weeks, either.
Well I haven't, anyway, on account of my havin' these here two peeps on my paws, but boy-oh-boy do I ever wish I WERE home alone, sometimes, especially when Peepers is blatherin' on and on about this and that, makin' absolutely no sense whatsoever, and even if she were, makin' sense, that is, the blatherin' is about stupid stuff which is of absolutely no interest to me, so why-oh-why she continues to blather in MY face is unfathomable, for sure, for she would do better to direct her blatherin' at a rock or a brick or somethin' without ears 'CAUSE MY EARS are sick and tired of hearin' her blather.
Plus, she tends to use stupid run-on sentences makin' herself EVEN HARDER to understand.
But besides the peeps, there have been other visitors, too. Why just this mornin', I caught Peepers chattin' with a chickadee.
The chickadee did not chat back.
And last week, there was that chipmunk.
Yup, that's right, last week there was a chippy in and amongst the pansies, just sittin' there, chatterin' to the peep.
And you know what?
The peep chattered back.
Of course, since Peepers doesn't speak chippy and the chippy apparently didn't speak peep, the two of 'em were goin' on for I don't know how long, havin' TWO TOTALLY DIFFERENT conversations, both at the same time.
Although I must admit, sometimes I, myself, do the very same thing with the peep.
Not 'cause I can't understand her or she can't understand me, mine you. It's just that...
Well often I prefer my own company to that of the peep.
And I think the courier guy does too, 'cause I've noticed that when he delivers a parcel nowadays, he dashes to the door, drops whatever he's carrying, then scoots away as fast as he can without even ringin' the bell, almost as if he were deliverin' a parcel to Hyacinth Bucket, herself.
Now Peepers SAYS this behaviour is on account of the pandemic and all, and delivery peeps not wantin' to have contact with anyone else, BUT I KNOW BETTER.
Yup, I know better, for sure. I'M ALMOST ONE HUNDRED PERCENT POSITIVE the courier guy just doesn't wanna have to talk to the peep.
After all, I wouldn't wanna talk to her either if I were him, what with all her blatherin' and run-on sentences about this and that which is basically nothin', and even if there is somethin' to what she's blatherin' on about at any particular time, it's nothin' of any interest to anyone but Peepers herself, and usually nothin' more than nonsensical nonsense and gobbledygook of the stupid and idiotic kind.
IF IN DOUBT,
DON'T. GO. OUT.
Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures
AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.