I only write about my cats
Shawn sent me an email yesterday with these two pics and headings:
And: Almost a Lemur:
Pretty much all we do is take pictures of the cats. But they are so photogenic!
Hasana and Will are visiting from Montreal and Pittsburgh respectively. We bought a bed at IKEA on Sunday with a real bed frame and a shitty little mattress, but at least it's better than the fold-out couch. Now we have an actual guest bedroom (sans closet and sans dresser). Ernesto is confused because when we got the bed, he assumed it was for him only and now he has to share. Not to mention that fat Henri has decided the box lid ghetto bed I made for Ernesto is his and he now lays in it or rather, wedges himself in it.
Hasana woke up this morning and actually toasted two English muffins and put jam on them and she and Will had breakfast. I was amazed. I almost never make breakfast. I scarf cereal out of a box by the handfuls and drink coffee and maybe have a piece of fruit, but I don't think my toaster has seen any action in years.
One more thing about this black eye. I was thinking how it would be great if you had some girl in a short story whose boyfriend really did hit her in the face and when people ask her how she got it, she would say, My boyfriend beat me up, and everyone would laugh, assuming she was kidding and then she would start laughing too, and this would keep happening (fyi: this is not a veiled plea for help).