Sometimes, even on holidays, my plans fall apart on me. This morning I was invited to go have cocktails with some friends, including Ruth. Because some other friends and I were talking about going to see Rocky Horror, I declined. And when those plans with the latter didn't happen, I was sad I didn't say something to Ruth. Not that I am fond of cocktails, but I do enjoy the occassional drink, and I was thinking an amaretto sour was in order for tonight.
So, planless tonight on All Hallow's Eve, I've decided to enjoy myself anyway. The hell if I'm going to be completely without fun.
But as all my other friends were already out, I found myself struggling for what exactly to do. I don't like drinking alone and I don't like going out to drink alone as I suspect that is asking for attention I don't want. But what?
Scary movies. It's Hallow's Eve, yeah?
I don't ususally think of myself as a horror fan, but recently I was thinking of what I watch, and I realize that I do watch a lot of horror stuff. I think I got into it because I like science fiction and there's a fair amount of crossover. And, in general, I like genre stuff.
Tonight's playlist:
1. "The Five People You Meet in Hell" from The Night Stalker.
Tony Curran totally sells this episode playing a blind cult leader with mind control powers. (His makeup, especially the eyes, helps too.) Stuart Townsend and Gabrielle Union are their adorable selves.
2. "Lonliest Number" from The Inside.
So many good actors on this show (Adam Baldwin, Katie Finneran, Neslan Ellis, Peter Coyote) makes this short-lived series a good idea just in general. This particular episode is all about suicide, and Danny to be a little more sensative and not just a badass.
3. Possession
A creepy little film about a guy who may or may not have switched bodies with his brother and then is trying to mend things with his wife or sister-in-law. I still haven't decided what was the real story here or not, which I guess is a sign that it does a good job at arguing either answer.
I have a whole night of enjoying myself and being creeped out.
Sometimes I accidentally have long conversations with people. Usually they're with people I love who make me laugh. Last night it was Ruth.
Ruth and I have only recently become friends, but we're apparently those friends who meet and then a few weeks later are best friends. (Last year, I did the same thing with Mark. He asks me about something in a class and three weeks later we're having two and a half hour conversations with lots of giggles. By this past April, we would run into each other in the street and ten friends would pass by, each wondering why we were having such enthusiastic conversations that last three hours when they're supposed to be ten.)
Ruth has got all sorts of fun stories. She used to work in a MP's office. She said that it was an awful job, just because the MP was a complete disappointment and because she had to deal with strange situations.
"We had to scan everything that came in and out of the office for records, which was fine, except the scanner was in one room and the computer that would actually make the scanner scan was in another room. You'd have to walk back and forth scanning in four hundred pages. At one point I suggested two people do it, one to flip the paper and the other to press the button, and they thought it was brilliant, but no one ever helped me."
Apparently a lot of people would call asking for asylum, which was fine, except no one could write anything down about anyone, so usually Ruth would have no contact information for them.
"The phone number they had wouldn't work and the ten different emails they had would just come back as one of those failed to send notices, so I started guessing what the email address probably was. Changing certain numbers, adding an s here, that sort of thing. Finally I got one of those emails to work."
Ugh. Incompetent people are able to have jobs all the time and they make so much extra unnecessary work.
The final straw was the schizophrenic who would call in. She apparently believed that the government, elements of the police and a few lawyers were conspiring against her, and she would call the MP's office over it. Ruth would apparently listen to her on the phone, with her head down, because she would call several times a day. Which was apparently better than her emailing six times a day.
"Usually, if it was mildly diverting, I would listen to her for twenty minutes, or if she was really upset, I'd give her forty."
I don't even give some of my friends forty minutes on the phone. And I'd love to talk to Dan like that, but he's always rushing to get off.
I suggested maybe this woman get some help, since it sounds like the government was far too incompetent to possibly be conspiring against her. On the other hand, Ruth's making my job, with minimal human contact, lots of books and research, and fellow employees I actually like, sound awesome. I already was pleased as punch with this work, but you know, it's good to be reminded of how bad it could be.
Work today was mostly uneventful. Jocelyn had left me an email with the directions to print out two copies of a file for her, which I did. I noticed after I did it that it had been sent to print four pages onto one page, which made everything small, but since that was the way the file was set, I didn't mess with it. And then I left it on her desk.
Then I continued on my research of a particular project. After a while, Jocelyn came in and said she wanted them to be one page on one page, so I changed the files settings and printed out another two copies. The file was at least 200 pages, so this was a massive print job. I was half expecting the printer to run out of paper, or if I was really unlucky, ink. I feel a little bad about it because I hate wasting paper on anything, and I managed to do that unintentionally.
Then I sat down and worked through more research. And that was my entire day.
This job is nice, but sometimes really isolating. Also, I need to get busy because people are going to ask what the heck I'm doing all the time. (At this point it looks like not much, but this is one of those things where it looks like nothing right near the end.)
The boss wasn't in today at all, which is too bad, because I like talking to her.
Also, everyone else left early today, so I just let myself out fifteen minutes early. People here are pretty loose on schedules and you know when people are leaving because it's customary to say goodbye.
You know when some mistake happens, and you start panicking? That was what my evening was like.
It doesn't appear to have been my fault, but basically, there was a screw up involving housing, and for about a half hour I thought I was getting evicted. I'm not, thankfully, but as I waited for the landlord to call me I was trying desperately hard not to have a meltdown. I tried doing some writing, I tried distracting myself in my infinite quest for good blogs. But I kept thinking about the crisis at hand. According to the notice I got, I would have to move on Halloween day, and I can think of little else that would make me want to throw up. Not only would I have to give up my beloved Halloween plans (I would never forgive myself) I would also have no where to go.
When she called and told me there had been an error, I was so relieved. I can still enjoy the holiday and everything.
Just so everyone knows, this counts as my Halloween scare. No need to make me freak out more.
Today has been one of those days where I find myself running a lot of errands. I first walked over to a Halloween shop to pick up a couple of things for my Halloween costume this year. I still don't have it done, but I'm thinking it'll be ready soon. I've decided to do something relatively simple this year, just because I've been so busy.
A lot of my female friends talk about how Halloween is sort of an opportunity to dress slutty without anyone saying anything about it. (At least not to their face. As much as I hear people talk about dressing slutty, I hear just as many complaints about the slutty dressing.) Although I have problems with the whole concept of slutty, I decided years ago that Halloween would be another opportunity for me to be a feminist and express myself through fantasy.
You know what my fantasy is? To be admired and noticed, but not for being slutty, or even sexy, but for being strong and powerful. Usually that's what my costumes are all about. Strength and power. I am demanding your gaze and I'm also demanding your respect.
This year, I decided to go for something more utilitarian, because I'm expecting to move around a great deal, so comfortable shoes, something I can potentially run in, but still have fun. It's going to probably end up being more cute than about strength and power, but I'm okay with that because of my limited time this week and because of my circumstantial constraints.
I digress. I was in a Halloween shop, and of course I want to buy everything. I love spooky things, I love black, I love all the Gothic stuff, I love a cute pumpkin. I went in and looked around a little. They had cups that said "Zombie Potion" and candelabras. They had this giant spider with hair covering it, and it looked so adorable I just wanted to give it a hug.
I wish that Halloween was a longer holiday. As much as I enjoy giving gifts to friends, I wish we'd switch it so that Halloween was a long holiday and Christmas was short. I want to have a whole week to wear costumes.
I also wish I had money now to just splurge on lots of things for all year. I like clothes as a way to express oneself artistically, and I was thinking that maybe I should consider costumes. Costumes are usually made of cheap material, but in wearing something meant to be a costume I redefine what clothes means, making all clothes seem like ultimately some kind of costume. Which could be cool.
I'm thinking of investing in wigs. Apparently dying one's hair changes it forever and the color isn't as rich anymore. I don't want to dye my hair, but I do want to change it occasionally, and I was thinking maybe I should buy the occasional wig. Something fun, something I could wear to a club even.
I finally stopped daydreaming about Halloween and bought what I needed, then I hightailed it over to the post office. (Got stuff to send.) And then went over to do some shopping for things for my place. (Don't rely on roommates to get stuff.)
Even I get sick of studying. This weekend, I've been doing almost nothing else, and frankly, I wanted a break. So I attempted to set up camp outside to do more homework. I figured this would be the best of both worlds, because then I would be outside but still getting stuff done.
But I couldn't seem to hold on to internet connection long enough. So I had to give up. I'm very disappointed.
I'm going to try to study this as much as possible, and then go outside to do my reading. If I get time.
Tony over at London Calling has this great post discussing how the Bodleian Library is going to be posting Jane Austen's manuscripts online.
The only possible sour thing about this is, of course, reading Austen's handwriting. It may be perfectly legible, but anyone who is a historian of a non-modern era knows that manuscript reading can be a chore if the writer was sloppy. I've never seen Austen's manuscripts before, so I have no idea what it's going to look like, but hopefully it doesn't make me think of 17th century Jesuits. That stuff will give you a headache three words in. Hopefully Austen is as purposeful in her handwriting as she is in her prose.
Dan texted me yesterday, asking what he should be for Halloween. At the time, I didn't really have a good suggestion, but it occurred to me today who he should be: Michael Scott.
Dan once told me he liked Michael Scott, and that totally surprised me, because Dan's way better than that guy. But since Dan likes the character, and since it would be relatively easy for Dan to greasy his hair back the way the character did in the early season, I don't see why not.
The biggest problem is that Dan apparently doesn't own a suit. (I'll say it again: a total pity, as he would look great in one.) So maybe he needs to borrow one. And maybe he needs to spice it up by playing Michale's terrible Dick-in-a-Box costume, complete with a noose hanging around his neck.
I'm almost certain Dan's going to shoot this one down, but it's probably a better idea than some of the ones he's fielded.
This morning someone pointed me to this great little blog called Reasoning with Vampires. It's about, you guessed it, Twilight. Despite adoring Taylor Lautner, I find a hard time with the rest of the franchise, and here someone takes apart Meyer's books on phrasing and grammar. The blogger frequently notes when Meyer's phrases are (un?)intentionally creepy, which I'm finding increasingly interesting.
Today has been one of those days about doing what I am supposed to be doing and not just having my usual amount of fun. Which means that, among other things, I had to do laundry today.
I actually like being alone in the laundry place, usually reading a book. I kind of like the excuse for a little quiet.
After the end of the drying cycle, I took the big blanket I was cleaning out and wrapped it around me. I seem to recall my Mom putting my clothes in the dryer in the window right before school and then making me change right before I left, meaning I was getting into warm clothes. I'm sitting here now, all snuggled up in this big warm blanket.
I've posted before about how much I love postcards. One of the things I mention is how much I like the vintage postcard look. So imagine my joy at discovering Found Image, which has some of these kinds of postcards. So now I have even more postcards that I need for my collection.
For example, there's this cute picture of a dog in a net. I don't even like dogs that much, but there's something about this I find really cute.
I was advised to put the mail in the mailbox next to the subway, which I did. Since I was on my way out, this worked out surprisingly well.
As I was in the subway, I put on my MP3 player. The first song to come on? "Mercy Me" by Alkaline Trio. Just before I had left, I had a conversation about punk rock and I mentioned that I loved this particular band. Funny how life happens that way.
When I got home, I was all alone, so I played music loudly and enjoyed myself. I was reading some blogs online when one mentioned about a recent National Suit Up Day to celebrate How I Met Your Mother. I don't really watch that show, but Dan does, so I texted him.
"Are you wearing a suit?" I asked. I imagined him in one. Cut rightly, it would flatter him. The actually suit would have to be form fitted, and the pants would have to be the right length (covering the ankles and slightly covering the shoes), but he would look good and adult and mature.
"I don't own a suit," he texted back. Way to blow that fantasy.
I was a little surprised this was the answer, since Dan drinks gin and has elitist views about art. But I can't really think of a reason he would need a suit either. He's also an awkward science boy; he needs clothes he can use to trample around in the mud and whatnot.
Dan texted me back. "Do you know who does have a suit?"
I thought maybe he'd mention his roommate, who also has no particular reason to have a suit. "James Bond" I texted back.
"Glenn Beck," he answered. I actually had a hard time remembering what Beck wears. Usually I'm too busy being annoyed at him.
I decided not to text Dan further, just because he is anti-text message.
Inga came home, and we chatted about our days. Inga's an actress, so she told me all about how annoying her opera teacher is and how annoying this other actress in her class is.
Jackie, one of the other roommates, came in, and we chatted about boys. Jackie's boyfriend is thirty years old, which is way older than her and which I think is kind of creepy, though I don't think it's my place to tell her what to do.
Inga and I had dinner together. (Jackie's been sick recently and hasn't wanted food lately, though she had a little later than us.) We had a nice conversation about siblings.
I like my roommates a lot, but everyone goes to bed so early. Around 10:30 or 11, which is ungodly early, really. I am use to going to bed, at the earliest, midnight. And when I'm having sleeping problems (which haven't affected me much in the last week) I'm lucky if I make it to bed before 3 in the morning. One of my former roommates, Sam, had the same problem as me, and I can't imagine her living with these girls.
Since I don't have to be up as early as them, I've been staying up later. I go to another part of the building and work on other things, mostly catching up on email. I sat in one of the lounges as this girl watched Law and Order: LA. It's by far the most boring of the franchise, and this comes from someone who watched all of Conviction.
I went back to the room to go to bed, and I don't think I made too much noise. And then I crashed.
Camilla gets up around 6 or 7 to exercise, which is fine but she exercises less than a half foot from my bed. The first time I noticed it, my voice caught a little. I didn't quite gasp.
I had breakfast that morning with Jackie. I don't think we talked much, but we were both tired. I stole a box of Cheerio's and a bagel out of the caf.
The girls all left before I did for school. My schedule looks like it's going to be later in the day than most of them. After they left, I did all my usual stuff to get ready: brushing my hair, brushing my teeth, putting on my perfume, etc.
I worked on some things online as I waited for it to get closer to when I needed to leave. I wrote some notes to friends.
I noticed that Justin was online, so I chatted with him. Justin is about to turn 25, and he mentioned that some of his Chinese friends want to take him to a strip club. I still think this is a great idea, one that Justin should totally go for, but I don't think this is going to happen. I suggested that he get a couple of other friends together for this little outing, like Nick, Dan and Daniel. There were few things I could think of that would be as funny as those four trying not to be awkward in a strip club. They're awkward around girls dressed normally; I can't imagine them around the scantily clad kind. Justin had to get going to class, and I was leaving soon myself, so I let him go.
I finally got my stuff together, and caught the subway. Sort of. I went into the car, and waited and waited. Finally, three fire fighters came by on the platform, wheeling one of those cart things. I had enough time to think "Er..." before someone came over the intercom and said that a customer was sick and that they would be starting off soon.
And eventually we did get going, though they changed where we would be stopping. This didn't affect my traveling, but it did affect a lot of other people's, who got off.
When I got to work, Alex wasn't in, so I got started on a project that Alexander had for me. He wanted me to do some research and familiarize myself with some stuff on ecofeminism. I don't really know much about ecofeminism, so I got started on the project, reading the materials he gave me.
I guess for the time being this is what my schedule is going to be, which is weirdly normal. I don't know if I can handle having a set schedule and being normal and all that. I'm use to having nothing set in stone and getting frustrated. What am I going to do when I don't have to be frustrated all the time?
Paul and I were talking later in the evening. We were mostly being a little gossipy, as I told him the latest news on Ryan. We were sort of amazed about it, given what we knew about him.
Inevitably, this means we started talking about relationships in general. Paul told me last year that he doesn't want to be in a relationship, and even though part of me is sad for him and for a lucky girl who should be dating him, I want to respect his feelings. He's my friend, after all.
"Do you want to be in a relationship?" he asked.
I paused. I thought about all the boys who I couldn't be with because they were gay, had girlfriends, were a million miles away, were clearly not interested, or, my favorite, not really as great as they first seemed.
"Yes...but not just with anyone."
"Well, I didn't think you were like Trusty and would just date for the attention."
Usually I can't have conversations like these with boys, just because they are awkward and have a hard time opening up, but then Paul started in on something else, and we left it at that. Two weeks ago we hashed out all of his unhappiness with the relationship concept, so there was no need to revisit it.
Daniel once commented that he didn't like Evanescence's second album, The Open Door. After I got over the shock of imagining Daniel listening to Evanescence, I found myself comparing the two albums.
I love The Open Door. Second albums tend to be the same thing from bands, but this was distinct and different and extraordinary baroque in its darkness and fury and pain. I love how unafraid it is to be so demonstrative. A lot of people would mock that, but Evanescence embraces it.
Probably my favorite song on the album is "Like You," which is about losing a loved one. Apparently Amy Lee wrote it about losing her sister. I love my sister, and I know, without a doubt in my mind, that I would throw myself in front of a bus for her. Or anything else large and deadly, for that matter. If I lost my sister, I don't think I could begin to deal with my despair. And somehow that makes this song all the better for me.
"Cloud Nine" at one point samples a section of Mozart's infamous Requiem. For a long time I could hear it in the song, and it would nag at me, because I was certain I was hearing something I knew. A couple of years ago I was listening to Requiem and I realized what it was about this song. And I love that about so much music: finding little things in it long after I've listened to it over and over again. I probably do this because I have no music knowledge whatsoever and am slow. But it tickles me all the same.
And it's the little touches that make this album for me. Introductions like in "Snow White Queen" and "Lacymosa" have wonderfully little additions that add up to lovely sounds. I wish more rock was produced like this.
None of this is to say their first album, Fallen, is bad. Far from it. But Fallen is a much more subdued set of songs; it's not as angry, it's a more stripped down sound.
Because I think I may be getting sick, I've been taking preventative measures, one of which includes trying to get some extra sleep. (I love sleeping, so of all the preventative measures, this is the one I find easiest to work on.)
But when Jennifer called me this morning, I felt bad. I thought that maybe I had set my alarm when I actually saw she was calling me. And then I felt bad because I suspect my grogginess on the phone sounds more like irritability to the other person. It's not, it's that my brain isn't totally up yet and that sometimes my eyes aren't even open.
Jennifer wants to come by tonight to hang out. I'm actually excited to see her, since it's been a while. She mentioned she wants to give me a hug, which later I realized might be a bad idea if I'm sick.
So I've been trying hard to feel better, if only so she doesn't have a cold in three days.
My dream this morning started off normally. I was in a classroom, and one of my old math teachers was up at the front, teaching. Everyone from these math classes I used to take was sitting in the desks, only they were older now, as these classes were years ago. After class ended, I put on my backpack (which was heavy) and my Dad came and picked me up.
This is where the dream started getting weird. We were walking along a river, and then we were walking on stepstones to get across the river, and then there was a strange sideways fountain that I think I was suppose to use as a transport device.
I never really found out because my phone rang and woke me up. It was Nate, sending me a text message, simply saying good morning. The first thing I thought was "What could Nate possibly want from me?" Not that Nate usually wants something (he's pretty good at taking care of himself, especially since the beginning of this year) but I felt like I was getting buttered up for something. I don't know Nate's schedule right now, but it was at the time of day when a lot of people are suppose to be in class.
I didn't reply right away because I was hoping to fall back asleep. Sometimes I am awoken by something but it's close enough to when my body would have naturally woken me that I am unable to fall back asleep.
But Nate hasn't texted me back yet, so maybe that means he really just wanted to be nice and actually wish me a good morning.
I came across this interesting article today that noted that Latina seems to have disappeared from Google's search engine. I'm hoping this is just some strange mistake. It kind of makes me think of the chaos over Amazon's reclassification of LGBT books about six months ago.
I find Google's recent reworking of their search engine really fascinating. I find myself typing in things just to see how to search changes over mere letters. It's also nice if you're looking for something very specific and then can rework your search mid-type.
This morning I stumbled across a blog called The Well-Read Wife. It basically looks like a small book review blog.
What got my attention (and, obviously, got me thinking) was that the site's title basically identifies the author in a traditional woman's role. I'm not sure how I feel about this. Of all the things to think of one's self as, being something of another's seems strange. Haven't women spent enough time being someone else's and not their own?
She is reading Cassandra Clare, and, back before she was a well-loved children's author, I read her too, so it is hard for me to hate on her. And I do like the author's (the well-read wife's?) observation about the Millennium Wheel being so Victorian. So I guess it isn't all bad.
There's a beautiful sunset tonight. It's just one of those right moments where the clouds and sun line up in a way that make the sky look like rainbow sherbet ice cream. It's mostly pink, with just a little orange gently brushes on the bottoms of the clouds.
I love a perfect nature moment.
I'm posting this little video here because it seems a little too...well, perfect. As most of you know, I'm a feminist. And I love music that is about empowering women.
"I don't want to look like you, because you're too perfect" could sum up my feelings about a lot of girls I was around in high school. I don't know what it is about college, but after a certain point you're too busy to notice anyone else. Or at least I was.
The only umbrage I take with this is that the young woman singing the song is the epitome of modern female beauty. If this song was being sung by someone who didn't somehow fit the mold, I might like it a little better.
So, really, if the Donnas or some angry grrrl band could cover this, I'd be much more in.
Tori and I went to visit Jack. We were there so that their two kittens could meet. Tori needs someone to watch her cat now, and we were all hoping that Mocha and Feets would get along.
On the drive over, Tori told me that they have now secured all of her father's guns. He had fifteen rifles and five handguns, which is a small arsenal. Apparently it's normal for hunters to have about ten rifles. I was just worried something walked off, which would be scary.
We tried a lot of things to get the cats to like each other. At one point, we just opened the carrier Mocha was in, and Feets tried several times to wander up to it. And Mocha would hiss at him. Jack tried to pet Mocha, and Mocha started hissing at him. And then me after that, even though there was no way I was covered in cat fur.
Meanwhile, one of Jack's roommates, David, stopped by. He was just dropping some stuff off before heading out. He has a degree in music and women's studies, and I thought that sounded suitably hot. And then I met him and he was sort of adorable and nice. He plays music at a church, and was planning on doing stuff from the most recent movie version of Pride and Prejudice. I was definitely going to swoon, but Jack told me after he left that David was gay. Of course he was, I thought. This happens to me all the time.
"We should have some music," Jack said. Jack started showing us the stuff on his I-pod, and I picked out the Beatles. That was something everyone could agree too.
Then Tori held Mocha and Jack held Feets facing each other. And they both freaked out, but at separate times. Mocha would hiss, and then Feets would get all riled up and start clawing the air. And then Mocha would start hissing again.
Jack was cool enough to make us some food. As we waited in the living room, I began looking at Jack's books. He had a lot of stuff I was interested in reading. Lots of Ronald Dahl and other classics of young adult lit. And books on Wicca. I was thinking the day before of getting back into Wicca, but this would take a lot of work and time, and I really don't have much of that right now. I sang along to Yellow Submarine. I used to love that song and album as a kid.
It occurred to me as we were waiting that the reason Tori asked me to come was because Tori didn't really know Jack all that well anymore. Out of this particular group of friends, Jack is actually the one I stayed best in touch with. And since I was the matchmaker on this one, maybe it was best I come along.
Jack, like Jimmy, is a great cook. (Are all of my friends amazing cooks? When did this happen and why have I remained mostly ignorant of it?) Jack made us pork chops, beans and rice.
Some of you will recall I don't eat pork. This is still true, but I ate Jack's pork because it was good. Seriously, I usually despise pork, but this was excellent. He told Tori and I that he had added some cinnamon to it, which was surprising.
We waited for the two cats to sort of meet cute and get it over with. No such thing. We opened Mocha's carrier, and waited for her to come out, which she never did. Finally, Tori pulled her out of there. And then she sat up against the couch, trying to get under it. The couch was too low, and this annoyed Mocha deeply. Every time Jack got too close, Mocha would hiss.
One of Jack's other roommates, Kim, was apparently good with getting cats to like each other. So we were waiting for her. Eventually, I suggested that we watch Friends. I figured that this was a good way to pass the time. As Jack was looking at the episodes, I was struck by how attractive Jack was going to be, even when he got older. I kept imagining him with graying hair and wearing his glasses down his nose. I could totally imagine him wearing sweater vests and working as a professor.
I was struck by a similar set of thoughts about Daniel months ago. I was watching him walk, and I realized that when he looked older, he wasn't going to be all that different. Like, more hunched over than he already is, and with white hair and maybe even a bigger beard, but basically himself. And, like Jack, he would be cute. He would be adorable as an old man.
I realized a while ago that I've been nursing a little crush on Jack. I'm not going to do anything about it because he has a girlfriend and he's been with her for four years, which I'm really impressed by. There's no way I could compete with that, and I don't want to accidentally ruin Jack's life by telling him. He's a sweetie and deserves better than that.
We first watched "The One with All the Embryos" which had the Mom from That 70s Show and the episode that is an alternative reality of what their lives would have been like. We had a good time giggling, while Mocha sat there and hissed every time Feets tried to come into the room.
I joked that Feets was like a thirteen-year-old emo boy who really wanted to get close to the girl, but kept getting scared off. And then would inevitably have to go and write sad little songs about it.
Kim finally came home. She sat down on the floor next to Mocha and Mocha didn't hiss or anything. Kim just petted her and that was that. Mocha was definitely going to be able to stay. Kim really was the Cat Whisperer.
Tori, Jack and I got some extra cat stuff (scratching post, bowls, toys) out of Tori's car. Then we parted ways. I was afraid Tori was going to have a hard time leaving Mocha, but she seemed relatively all right.
