Minor panic this evening when I awoke from a nap and thought I heard it was Super Bowl Sunday. Of course, that turned out not to be true and what actually woke me up was Pete’s demiglace turning into a deep, rich brown gravy in the far-off kitchen and that really was important.
This morning, I got up much later than usual, though I have no idea why. Saturday Night Live was a rerun and I have no particular interest in Emma Stone or Coldplay; as we went to sleep, we were still giggling about lines from an early evening episode of Fawlty Towers, so you’d think all that aerobic exercise would’ve caused me to sleep lightly. No. I got up at just about 9. Here, we see the sad evidence of pussycats looking for me, waiting for me, not seeing me and running off to find food somewhere else. Nothing makes you feel like reheated crap like getting out of your cozy bed an hour and a half late and discovering you’ve disappointed cat people who aren’t even your pets. I was surprised to see these paw prints on this ledge. The cats that used to wait here moved away with their dumb people-people last summer. You can see these prints drip with dismay, but I may be overestimating and the snow may be thawing. Tomorrow, we expect the temperature to rise above 50.
About a week ago, I decided to stuff a cork in my wine drinking for a while. It wasn’t a big deal and it’s nothing permanent, but it makes a big difference in my budget. I had fifty bucks I wouldn’t have had otherwise, so I dropped them into this person’s Paypal account, because my good fortune can mitigate someone else’s misfortune. Tomorrow, I go back to work, which means I’ll be outside with food for the outdoor cats as the sun comes up. Perhaps they will forgive me, but we cannot say. Trust has to be earned, every day, every day.