Why I Can't Be More Crafty

I had a moment of creativity yesterday. I made a new wreath for our front door. A Valentine's wreath that my sis-in-law inspired me to make.
She's all about the craftiness. I think I've told you before that I call her "Martha" (as in, Stewart) behind her back. And to her face.

She and I have dreams of becoming great in the crafting world. Decorating and making and blogging and etsy-ing and all that jazz.
But alas, they are just dreams.
She works full time and raises my adorable nephew. And is married to my brother. Now that's a job.
I, too, have responsibilities and demands.

Like watching American Idol.
And medicating my sweet old cat.
Now THAT'S a job.

Have you ever tried giving 2 pills a day to a 17 year-old cat? It's not like I can hand her the tablets and a glass of milk and say, "Down the hatch, Granny."
Yesterday, when she ventured out of her bed, I saw a pill down in the cushion.
Yep. I gave her her medicine, she acted like she'd swallowed it, and then when I turned my back, she spit it out and poked it down into the bed.

I need a raise.