1. This fantastic woman, Frances,

a pregnant Frances 4

might have had a baby since the following photo was taken a week ago on Saturday.

a pregnant Frances 2

She was so uncomfortable last weekend that I hope she has. On the other hand, I still have a way to go on this baby blanket I am knitting for her, so if she is still holding on, it buys me some time.

2. TB wrote to me and asked what she could do for me in this time of need. In a rare moment of warmth toward humanity, I told her to commit a random act of kindness and then write about it. She did. When I read that she had done it despite people being less than grateful during her first few attempts, I got teary over my lunch.

3. I got my period shortly after I read TB's entry about her random act of kindness, so that explained the teariness and warmth toward humanity. The world makes sense again.

4. That last point brings us to this absolutely fantastic thing: I AM NOT PREGNANT. I had lost track of when I last had my period, but I knew that it was quite some time ago, and the way things have been going lately, I was kind of expecting that The Shit would think it was absolutely perfect to throw a surprise baby into the mix. Not pregnant right now = not the end of the world just yet.

5. You people who come here even semi-regularly and are so freaking nice to me and tell me nice things and encourage me and whatnot? Yeah, you all rock. Hard. You all rock real hard. You soften my dry, brittle heart.

6. When I took a sip of my coffee just now, it smelled distinctly like baked potatoes that have been sitting in the refrigerator for a couple of days. The smell surprised me, which made my mouth pull up into a smile, and I thought, I sure like poffcotateeo (pawf-cah-tatt-ee-oh).

7. My stupid jerk of a cat, Oskar, kept waking me up repeatedly from 4:30 am on, because he desperately needs a friend. He was trying to be nice about being awake near me by cutting out the yowling segment of his morning repetoire, but I still couldn't sleep through his batting his mouse around our metal shelving unit and pressing his pink little butt up against my eye. Even though I took away all his little mice and buried him under a pile of blankets to get him out of my hair, he kept trying to love me. He licked my forehead and headbutted my shoulder, and when I was standing in the bathroom threatening to lock him in the cupboard with the toxic cleaning products, he wound himself around my legs and cleaned my toes. At 5:15 am, we sat on the toilet together and cuddled, and he purred like this was the perfect thing to be doing at that ungodly hour. Is it healthy to be this in love with such a bad cat?

Oskar makes me wish that I could have more devoted beings around who can't speak enough English to hold it against me when I threaten to cut them off at the knees and turn them into a weiner cat. Or is that wrong?

8. This photograph of the Fiery One is priceless to me. He looks a little like dogs do when they sniff your camera lens, only more frightened.

Aidan in a pub

9. Also, the pen I am using has a delightful shade of green ink, I am eating greasy pizza for lunch, the office brought in good coffee this morning, and I have a three-day weekend to look forward to. And I like the number nine. And I get to go out and buy peanut butter this weekend.