Well, I have to get up and put shoes on and look in the cat medical book and then she wants to go outside and eat grass. It is a bright morning and chilly and I don't want her to stay out too long, so I go out with her. She munches for a while and gives dirty looks to the other cat and to the cat across the street, while I am entertained by a woodpecker hammering away at a pine tree. Eventually, she has had her fill of grass, and comes back in the house. I go back to bed, after cleaning up all the little deposits of kitty sick.
Of course, I don't wake up again until two o'clock, and have no time for a walk, and still feel all groggy. Furthermore, I feel queasy. Maybe I've got what the cat has. Maybe I should go out and eat some grass. In lieu of this, I eat fried potatoes. Yes, I'm stupid. But I feel better now, and the cool evening finds me only a little bit behind schedule. Now some coffee and a shower and some e-mailing. The cat and I might survive.
Apropos of nothing in particular: time confuses the hell out of me.
