Tuesday. Odd. I woke up way too early this morning and, staring at the ceiling, listening to the radio turned down very low and scratching Ms. Emmy's head and neck, I realized she was purring. This shouldn't have been surprising, cats purr after all, but I realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard her purr. I scratch her head and pet her quite a bit because she's a very needy cat and searches out a good petting, whether writhing on the floor in agony/ecstasy or on my lap, but she really doesn't purr. Odd was my thought. A question for the cat psychologist.
Today I have nothing on the schedule. The color balancing kit I ordered for the monitor-printer-camera-scanner should arrive today, so I'll look forward to that, and I owe my sister some photographs that I've decided have to be done today or I will find a psychologist in the yellow pages for my own sad condition. I do the journal entries and I will go out with the usual crew for a beverage when the opportunity arises, but I haven't done diddly squat else and this has been my state for at least the last year. My next door neighbor fed Ms. Emmy while I was away over the weekend and I didn't feel a single pang of embarrassment for the state of the apartment. The clothes and the bedding are clean, but they're everywhere and it hasn't seemed to matter. This will pass, but in what century?
Then again this is a Tuesday at the beginning of a week and I have no obligations that will take more than about ten minutes to accomplish (other than the pictures for my sister). How bad can that be? No, really. I'm appreciative. Here in Oakland.