Beastly

This gathering of singing birds each recent afternoon is another product of the lying Sun. The bitch of a Sun! I'm certain that betrayal will soon come, and the frogs who croaked all night last night will freeze in their boggy pools, and all the premature blossoms be frosted to a white death. Venus, so alluring a jewel placed just so on the cerulean velvet dusk, will vanish behind clouds drawn like curtains on a happy second act that precedes a disastrous denouement. It's all a fraud I'm sure, this February spring, regardless of what the groundhog said. The groundhog is obviously a tool of the Sun!


I've had to resort to drastic measures in dealing with the cat's recently-developed habit of taking my desk chair for her evening nap. I've gotten another chair from the living room and, shifting my desk chair and its contents of supine feline to one side, manage to squeeze the second chair close enough to the desk that I can use the computer without too much discomfort. The cat wakes up and, after a few accusatory mews, begins taking a long bath so that I may read my friends page while enjoying the odor of wet fur.