I no longer have pears. At least not complete pears. I have dismantled pears making their way through my digestive tract. (TMI?) A whole cat, however, is sleeping in my living room and another naps on the back porch. I had a nap myself, from about five o'clock until seven o'clock this evening. The day was otherwise almost free of accomplishments. The best moments were spent sitting on the back porch warmed by late morning sun and reading Jane Austen. I've found that Jane Austen is suited to spring mornings that smell of grass and laurel.
Thursday is to be a head-yanking day, and is also the only upcoming day for which rain is predicted. Of such coincidence I have nothing to say, perhaps because my earlier unintended nap has left me somewhat dazed. The nap brought with it a peculiar dream the details of which would be unenlightening, but I can say that if a server in a restaurant ever uses my coffee as a rinse for their dentures in my waking life I shall be very indignant indeed, and probably won't leave a tip.