We’re having a little BBQ get together here on Saturday. This will be the first official fiesta we’ve had at the house, and I’ve got to say there’s a bit of scouring and cat hair removal to do before everyone arrives. Thankfully I don’t feel particularly invested in the state of the yard. I’m a traditionalist; the dead grass reflects on Eliot (and the unending drought.) My plan is to ply the party goers with alcohol so they don’t notice the finger printed windows, — or don’t remember them. Yes, I realize my house is not a reflection of my worth as a human being — and that my friends don’t care. I’ll repeat that to myself as I battle the cat hair bunnies into submission.
I’m supposed to do four hours on the Alter G tomorrow. I’ve got to figure out how to download an audio book onto this iPhone.