Tails up ,Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. This has been a pretty good writing week for Aunt Anna. She is only two units away from being done with this round of edits for A Heart Most Errant, and she and Aunt Melva are working at getting Drama King ready to submit at the end of the month. Aunt Anna is also setting up the revisions for the second half of Her Last First Kiss, because she’s figured out what was probably the roadblock, and getting past that will actually be fun.

Let’s get the Aunt Anna stuff out of the way before we can get to the important part, aka me. The super functional planning thing seems to be working well as a base and then she can make things pretty later on; then I can help her by bopping things with my paws. Sometimes, I might try to make off with a pen or roll of washi, but seriously, who wouldn’t? Also, sitting on open notebooks or planners is super fun. Open ones are far better than closed ones, but I will sit on a closed one if that is all there is, especially if Aunt Anna needs it.

Let’s start with Aunt Anna’s Goodreads challenge. As of today, Aunt Anna is holding steady at 45 books read out of her goal of 90, which puts her at 50% of the way there, and fourteen books ahead of schedule. She did get two e-books out of the library for her new Kindle Fire, which runs super fast, so that number will be going up soon.

Aunt Anna is on fire with the Buried Under Romance post this past week, talking about classic historical romances on Kindle Unlimited (not sponsored) which is very useful for planning out her reading agenda for the immediate future. What will she write about this week? Stop by Buried Under Romance tomorrow and find out. My suggestions: books with cats in them. We’re awesome.

Okay, so now we get to the me part. A couple of days ago, I was helping Aunt Anna the way I always do, by hanging out very near her while she writes. Uncle Rheuben was home, and his way of helping her write is to be not-near her so that she can concentrate. She’s super into him, as you can probably guess. Also, he has homework he has to do on his own computer. Sometimes, though, he has to come into the kitchen, where Aunt Anna writes right now, because the kitchen is where they keep the people food.

Aunt Anna has bright pink kitty ear headphones, with lights she can turn on to mean Do Not Interrupt. If the lights are flashing, then Really Do Not Interrupt. This time, the lights were off, so talking to her is okay if it is important. This time, he did his “this is important” thing, so she took off the headphones. That’s when Uncle Rheuben pointed to me and said he didn’t like the way I was looking at the oven.

Okay, first of all, the oven wasn’t on, so I wouldn’t have got scorched paws or anything if I did put my paws on the oven door. Second of all, I have already been on the counter, on the day we moved into this apartment. Aunt Anna had told me, super loud, NOT FOR KITTIES, so I know not to go on the counter. ‘Not for kitties’ is the phrase I know that means I should leave something alone. That was the only time I had ever been on the counter. I know when Aunt Anna means business, and she totally did. No cats on counters.

Anyway, there was a discussion then about whether I had the same look about me as I did back when I was getting used to these guys, and the Cat Crack Incident happened. Back then, we were vagabonding, and were in a motel at the time. The humans were still figuring out what I like to eat, and got cans of gushy food that we will refer to as Cat Crack as the humans don’t remember its actual name. Needless to say, I LOVED the Cat Crack. The humans put it on top of the clothing rack, on a big shelf.

I wanted that Cat Crack. It was all I could think about. Uncle Rheuben, who at the time was known only as Belly Rub Guy, was trying to sleep. I got on the bed with him and looked at him, then looked at the clothes on the coat rack. The coat rack was right below the shelf where the Cat Crack was. If I jumped off Belly Rub Guy’s face, I could land on his sweatshirt, claws out, climb the sweatshirt, haul myself onto the rack, and then the Cat Crack would be mine, all mine.

Unfortunately, I did not carry out that plan , but Uncle Rheuben has never forgotten that look. He has a super good memory. I will neither confirm nor deny any plans for adventures in the kitchen, but theoretically, if I were to get on the counter, I could probably make it to the top of the refrigerator, and then be on top of the world. There is no Cat Crack there, though. Only bread and usually the crock pot. A cat can dream, though. I’ll keep you updated.

Headbonks!