The Easter bunny brought us this funny-looking egg from Whole Foods.
A good egg
Tag: Miss Mia Sopaipilla
Cat, sitting
We should
sit like a cat
and wait for the door
to open.
—”Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry,” by Ted Kooser and Jim Harrison
Sack up
“Today we shall play ‘Bag,” and ‘Crinkle Tube,’ and ‘Chase Me Chase Me.’ Then it will be time for lunch and an extended snooze, during which you are free to do whatever it is that you do when you are not serving me.”
April, no foolin’
“That’s cat food, right? Right?”
March came in like a debt collector and how delighted we are that it has finally fucked off.
66(6)
I’m only sleeping. Asshole.”
I was awakened at 4:30 a.m. by Miss Mia Sopaipilla singing me “Happy Birthday.”
At least, I think it was “Happy Birthday.” It sounded a lot like “Mrow yowr rowr myowww erroww mrow yowr rowr meeeeeeeeeeeeeowwwwwwwww.” But I’m not much of a crooner myself and so who am I to be critical of another amateur’s warbling?
It goes without saying that when I woke her up a couple hours later, I was the bad guy.
Meanwhile, someone has promised me birthday pancakes. But she’s in her office yelling at NPR so I’m not holding my breath.
Still, I am on top of the earth and I don’t work for the government, as Thomas McGuane has said. So, later, the 66-minute birthday ride. Right after those hotcakes.
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