The Russian Novel

After adding 4000 words to my course assignment today (which I’m quite proud of), I finally remembered that I have a blog and there’s still more writing to do. Oof.

It occurs to me that all this writing has made me a little strange, and Rob was giggling today as I talked to Eva while she kept trying to interrupt my work. It was after midday and she was convinced it was time for Second Breakfast. Second Breakfast being the meal that follows First Breakfast and her required morning excursion outside to go toity. Second Breakfast requires that she howls and howls and follows us around, which would be more annoying if she didn’t still have the big-eyed face of a kitten. So she’s adorable but still kind of annoying. And she won’t. Shut. Up.

Here’s a sample of our conversation:

Brrrauw.

“That’s a very sad story, Eva. You should write that down.”

Brrrauw.

“It could be another great Russian novel. So depressing.”

Brrrauw.

“Yes, I know. It snows a lot. And the kind tailor has been wrongly imprisoned for murdering his con-man brother.”

Brrrauw.

“Even though the brother is really still alive and just ran off to Minsk to escape his gambling debts.”

Maaaaauw!

“Oh really? The aristocratic lady is also having a tragic affair with the gamekeeper?”

Mauw.

“And then she had a miscarriage? And went mad and killed herself? That’s terrible.”

Brrrauw.

“And her husband had the gamekeeper charged with theft, but then he met the tailor in prison.”

Mauw.

“And together they plot their escape to try and get revenge.”

Mauw.

“And they kill the dead lady’s maid by accidentally setting fire to her husband’s house. And this leaves the husband ruined.”

Brrrauw.

“But they’ll never really get back what they’ve lost, because the tailor’s wife has already remarried and the aristocratic lady is still dead.”

Brrrauw.

“So they both get hanged. And it’s still snowing.”

Maaaauw.

“Yes. Tragic.”

Brrrauw.

“NO YOU CAN’T HAVE MORE FOOD!”

Brrrauw.

 

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