There is a huge fluffy orange cat that seems to have decided it lives here. It started out just hanging out by the front door, rolling around and being cute and trying to duck in the door before I closed it, but now it's started ambushing me from bushes and staircases and behind the neighbor's motorcycle. I'm not prepared to take in someone else's cat, so I'm really not sure what to do.
Thursday I met up with Josh for the Fruit Bats show. I heard all about Amsterdam, frites were had, and the band tricked us into an encore by ending their set 3/4 of the way through. I didn't realize that passionate feelings about the Fruit Bats were possible, but apparently I continue to underestimate their drawing power. Since then, I've pretty much succumbed to the headache of death and feeling a little bit like I have the flu, although I did make it to the space store yesterday and then out for Jean's birthday. I haven't played Clue in a million years, but apparently I'm nowhere near competitive enough to win. I also have no spreadsheet-based strategy. My friends are terribly nice great big nerds, and I love them to pieces.
Whenever I'm doing laundry and it's time to head back down to the laundry room, I become convinced that I've left my keys down there. There is no reason at all to think any such thing--I've never locked my keys in the laundry room before. It happens, nevertheless, every single time.