I wasn't meant for this merry-go-round of upsets and out-of-ordinary events. I like my life to be ordered, predictable, laidback. Unexciting.
So now that our last visitors have gone home, I find I miss the two eight-year-olds chattering and running through the condo.
Even the cats, who pretended to hate being brushed and petted and oohed over by strange little people, seem to miss them. The girl cat shows no interest in the tennis players outside the window at all, and she's usually right there watching the ball go back and forth. The boy cat sits in the kitchen and meows for food because he's used to having little hands catering to him.
It's very quiet here now. Guess I'll work on those edits.