While I was making breakfast this morning, Monica was walking between my legs, rubbing with each pass, meowing every so often. (Precious!) As I made coffee over the sink with my back turned to her, she leapt and tried to paw claw her way towards my shoulders — like the first couple months of her youth — as if she were T-1000 chasing a police car in Terminator 2! I stifled a painful squeal and side stepped a couple feet to my left, and she ran away into the living room.

Dunce of the night

Tonight, I’m one of those people who locked themselves out of their hotel room putting their room service dishes outside the door. I’m relieved there was a phone next to the elevators because I didn’t have shoes or my iPhone, which means it’s a really long walk to the front desk. (At the moment, I have a bum foot.)