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Yes, I am a deadbeat. I haven't renewed my Gold membership yet. If you know me at all you can guess the reason why (hint: all of Duff's paydays are commemorated on our household calendar with a small but significant $).
To the chagrin of my not-in-laws, aka The Landlords, we have a new kitten. We told Felony's favorite receipt checker at Costco, Irena, a fresh-faced young woman who came to the U.S. years ago via some beleaguered Eastern European countrylet, and she said, "Oh, me too! Is yours an orange tabby cat?"
"Yes," we said, surprised.
"Yeah, me too," she said cheerfully. We asked her what she had named hers and she said, "Tigger," and I nodded and said, "Ah, yeah," and smiled with understanding. (I think I had even said "anything but Tigger" in the car on the way home, holding the cardboard box in my lap.)
"Only I didn't know it was such a popular name," she said with a sigh.
Duff and I walked out with bemused smiles on our faces, marveling that Irena could have both the dumb-luck prescience to guess we had gotten an orange tabby, yet not know that Tigger is a common cat name―especially for an orange tabby.
I love foreigners.
We still haven't named the kitten. We will likely prepare some sort of complicated instant-runoff ballot for the various nominees tonight.