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That's basically it. It's my birthday.
I signed up for Nanowrimo, so that November will eventually become synonymous with failure in my mind.
Though our actual cat is still missing, we also have a phantom cat living in the basement. It is a black cat with long hair and spooky, yellow-green eyes. We see it whisking away sometimes, behind the piano and out the ventilation ... whatever-they're-called. Ducts? Holes? Rectangles. Which used to be covered with wire grid, or gridded wire or whatever THAT'S called, but it all got torn out by Daisy years ago and we never got around to fixing it. So someday one of us will go down into the basement and frighten a visiting skunk. And then we'll get what we've got coming, eh?
Twice the phantom cat came upstairs and ate Rufus's food when we left the basement door open. It was quite a mystery for a while there. But it's gotten too cold to leave the door open every night. So last night I took some food down there and laid out a blanket. It makes me feel better knowing he has food and a warm spot. And no rats for the Kraken Copeses, thank you.
It is my birthday, I am thirty-nine.