The morning of.

I had a kind of late night last night. As a result, hauling my butt from the warmth of my doona-cocoon was not an easy task - until I remembered the reason I needed to be conscious. I fell into some jeans, donned a festy old jumper, shoved a cap on and discarded the idea of removing make-up remnants in order to make myself and Sahara a coffee. The fierce stand off between over that damned pig. Naturally, both broke their evil staring contest the moment I clicked the shutter.
As I was pouring the UHT - and shuddering at the thought of actually having to drink UHT milk, whilst silently congratulating myself for having the forethought to buy some because I know what I'm like at remembering to buy milk - I remembered Sahara was unable to eat or drink anything, as it would effect her anasthetic. I'd been remarkably cavalier about her second operation since I found out she needed it on Friday, but when I realized she couldn't share her morning brew with me - well, I got a little teary.

Guess who won?
So, in time honored tradition, I attempted taking a series of hilarious photographs to look at during the day to cheer me up.
Add her being in a crazy mood because she could sense something was up, and me being completely inept with the camera due to lack of caffeine (the UHT really was that bad), it wasn't quite as successful as I had hoped.
And so, it ended up as I knew it would - a blurry mess with Sahara jumping all over me like a thing possessed...and me letting her, because it'll be the last time she'll be able to do that for months.Sob.