Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

"The love of liberty is the love of others; the love of power is the love of ourselves." -- William Hazlitt (1778 - 1830)

There was an earthquake in Baltimore this morning.

Within the past hour, according to the news crawl. The ground shook for several seconds.

But apparently it didn't shake very hard. It wasn't perceptible at my house. (I was awake.) I guess if I'm near a television at noon I'll find out where it was felt and whether it caused any damage. No injuries reported according to the crawl.

But this does seem like an opportune time to invite one of my friends to mention the earthquake that struck at a particularly story-worthy moment for her. (I slept through that one and found out about it later -- from that friend, I think. And I've been amused ever since.)

I'm not feeling well today; right now I can't tell whether this is the leading edge of a migraine or merely the nastier side of having failed my saving-throw against insomnia last night/this morning. Today y'all can expect either a bunch of small-to-medium entries from me as I sweep some of the entry-idea backlog out of my brain so I can feel I'm doing something, or nearly nothing as I finally fall asleep. But first, something I need to get off my chest that I would have posted from the parking lot at dance practice last night if the important section had fit into an SMS message...

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, and this time it warrants the profanity: if you're not going to use your goddamned turn signals, then you've got to use your fucking mirrors. I would much rather you bloody well use both, of course, but failing to use either is fucking insane. Despite near misses from three different drivers who acted as though I were driving The Vampire Car (no reflection), I did arrive at 3LF rehearsal intact (but missing some quantity of rubber that I left on I-95 panic-braking to avoid the most frightening of the idjits -- thank God I was not being tailgated at that moment).

The Sheepie arrived even later than I did (I got there halfway through, she showed up as things were ending) bearing a very tasty birthday cake. And candles, which went unused because nobody had matches or a lighter. I was dirged for three or four verses. Then I joined the post-rehearsal dinner run for a change, and had a larger-than-expected salad. With hotter-than-expected peppers on it.

Several days ago I noticed a very small clump/mat/knot in Perrine's fur, on the side of her neck. For the length and thickness of her coat, she's been remarkably tangle-free until now. I tried to tease it out with my fingernails, but was not successful. And she wouldn't hold still long enough for me to comb it out. I kept forgetting to pick up a brush to use on her (I'd rather not fill my own hairbrush with cat hair), but last night I finally remembered to do so.

Unfortunately, she's much more interested in sfiffing and chewing on the brush than letting me brush her, but I did manage to undo the edges of the clump a little. Finally, I realized that I wasn't going to untangle it completely without pinning her down for long enough to seriously piss her off, so I resorted to scissors.

That required annoying her a bit too, but not for very long. I think I got the whole thing (and a little bit more -- I was going for speed, not precision). It was interesting, holding that tuft of fur between my fingers, separated from the cat. The feel of an untact lock is rather different from the loose clumps of already-shed fur that I encounter on a regular basis. And her fur is so thick that I can't see the spot from which I clipped it. A minute or three later she had forgiven me for the indignity of tugging on her fur to hold her in one place, and is now sleeping curled up on my left thigh.