Portia found one of those pieces of plastic that goes around the necks of bottles and has decided it's a cat toy. I guess that makes it a cat toy. She has begun having periodic bouts of cat lunacy now that she's indoors most of the time. Shredded paper marks her passage through the house. So far she hasn't overturned any furniture. The feral cats overturn the resin chairs on the back porch now and then. The indoor furniture is heavier, and Portia is only one cat. I do fear for certain lamps, though.
The afternoon, of which I experienced about ninety minutes, was balmy for November. The yard is strewn with dead leaves, which I must eventually get around to raking. There's no big rush, though the lawn would probably be better off without a crunchy brown carpet obstructing its access to the sunlight. The autumn leaves are pleasant to see, on or off the trees. The lawn will just have to do its best to survive them.
Oh, and a dandelion is blooming in my back yard. In November. What's up with that?