3-Oct-2005

I got no sleep last night.  For those of you who don't know, we have a new addition to our 1635 family.  His name is Max, he's orange, and he has more hair than a sheep waiting in line for the shearer.  Except he's not a sheep, he's a cat.  A cat who, when I'm sleeping on my side, likes to occupy the skyward part of my hip until I inadvertently roll over on my stomach and send him careening to the floor.  The fierce meowing that follows never fails to attract Peter's attention, except Peter, with his dashing tuxedo coat, terrifies Max.  I think it's because Max feels underdressed when he's around him.  Or perhaps he feels pressure to marry...  Regardless, I spent the night alternately trying to coax Max out of hiding and chase Peter away.  Such a comedy of errors hasn't been enacted in my bedroom since I dated The Psycho.  That's right, the one who, after an intense makeout session, would request that I Mapquest his route from my place to that of the girl he was really obsessed with.  And he couldn't believe it when I quit returning his calls!  How did I ever let that one get away?