Last night, Tuesday, I was telling one of the cats, the one who seemed most depressed, “They come back Friday. Friday, only two more days.” See, really it was three more days, but I didn’t want to make the cat sad, and I figured cats probably aren’t that good with days of the week since every day is Sunday for a cat. That’s why this is funny.

They are skiing, the women. The cats are snoozing, mostly. I am “working” since my “employer” has largely eliminated the concept of “vacation” from his management plans. So, “working”. And later in the day, feeding cats, cleaning litter boxes. Leaving dishes on the counter, taking garbage out when I want, leaving toilet seats up, testing my theory that bed-making is a waste of time and unmade beds have no dire consequences.

One realization: left to my own devices, I work out more, still take out garbage and do dishes, although it takes me longer to wash a floor.

I also get more cello practice, but not as much as I thought I would, although that is made up for in increased volume.