December 16th, 2001


Because everything isn't hard enough already.

Our cat of 15 years isn't expected to make it through the night. Every few minutes I can't help but bump the desk or jerk on a drawer just to make sure she's still reacting to the sound. I don't remember not having her with me, and the knowledge that she's near the high end of her life expectancy doesn't help. I just look at her, shifting restlessly and trying to sleep comfortably, and it gets hard for me to breathe.

In other news, my better judgement finally kicked me in the head. The E-mail has been sent, though in somewhat calmer terms than I would have liked. If I could have anything I wanted for Christmas, I think I'd wish for the nerve and gall that everyone thinks I have.
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    lonely lonely