News not from my navel.

I've come to terms with the drama I've been dealing with lately. More or less, anyway. It has to do with work, so I won't/can't/ought not to write about it here.

Meanwhile, the world is like one disgusting giant sauna. Except for without that lovely, relaxing, heavy, pulse slowing, heavenly pore-clensing sauna-ness of a sauna. And there is no cold shower during or after. The worst part about humidity is that gross smells hang about in the air for longer. Case in point: my cat's butt. Cecily is tiny and dainty and wee and so much more like a dolly than a real cat that I don't usually don't even think of her as having a butt. I mean, yes, she does that cat thing where she walks back and forth in front of my face while I am lying down reading, but there is no gross factor. usually. In general, I don't see butt, I don't smell butt, there is no butt-ness to her rear parts. But tonight in the humidity, I became distressedly aware of the reality: my cat, she is real. and she has a butt. a cat-butt. with all the stinky butt-ness that is therewith implied. Go away, stupid yucky humid sauna weather. I want my dainty buttless princess flower kitty back.

Of course, it might not be just the humidity that is making Cecily's butt so very butt-like. The worst part of this whole packing thing is the fact that she seems to think that packing peanuts are tasty tasty kitty toys for munching. I think maybe they give her gas.