I am writing for myself and strangers. This is the only way that I can do it... Gertrude Stein

12/13/2004

Dude? Seriously.

There must be something wrong with me. Normal people just don't behave this way. I just called the vet clinic and asked them if there were any people looking for homes for their cats. And I have 55 minutes in which I could go to the cat shelter, but we don't even know who is watching our cats next week, and we will be gone for two weeks.

I haven't actually called any of the numbers I got though.

What is wrong with me?

For one thing, I am bored out of my mind. I need to start bringing a book to work with me, I swear. Or get back to work on my memoir.

B.O.R.E.D.

There are two perfectly good hours left in the daylight that I could go and get my children, spend time with them, shop for dinner, do a little housekeeping... And I am sitting here why???

Looking at my list of things to do. Anything pressing before new year's? No? I don't even know what some of these things MEAN.

So, maybe it's time to blow this little popsickle stand, eh? Til tomorrow? Tomorrow, when perhaps I will at least have a book with me?

It beats trying to adopt other people's cats without permission...

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