Yeah, but

So, I was going to write about the War on Christmas and how it pretty much didn't seem to make an appearance in western Michigan over the, um, holidays--western Michigan, where Nativity Scenes, in order to make them non-religious, are flanked by Santa Claus and Frosty the Snowman--but now David Letterman has pretty well covered this, so, OK, next topic.

Then I was going to write with righteous anger about the crazy people in our building and how mean they are being about laundry and how obnoxious they are being about parking, and, well, the condo meeting, aside from giving certain people an audience for the airing of certain marital dirty laundry, basically cleared all that up.

Then I was going to write about all the insanity in my department, how totally dysfunctional it is, how we can't get anything done, and on and on, but that got boring.

And then (Slim adds--she's gotten quite good at typing) I was going to race madly in a circle in the bathtub, tail puffed up, ears back, pupils dilated, claws extended, snorting and squealing and tumbling after a little piece of wadded up tissue paper, but...I decided to lick myself instead.

Actually, cats and people are not all that different. At least I hope not. I hope not because the fact that Slim and Birdie have finally settled into an uneasy truce -- Birdie can walk around the apartment! she can sit on the couch! she's not hidden away under the bed all day! -- gives me some hope for the year ahead.


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