  At four am three nights ago or so, i threw a shoe at a gorrilla-sized cat who was trying to eat Einstein's face. It never ceases to amaze me that cats can make such a wide variety of noises, at such a variety of volumes. The yowling was nowhere near one of my windows, and yet woke me from a drug induced sleep. This shoe throwing has become a semi-regular thing, too. I'm not sure where the gorrilla cat comes from, although my guess is some sort of hell dimension.
And yeah, I love animals. But I do eat them, and occasionally, i will throw a shoe or a rock or something at a creature that's attacking a creature with whom I have a relationship. Especially when it comes close to outweighing me. That was a BIG cat. Welcome to December, Ladies and Gentlemen. It's true what they say, about time flying when you're in a coma. I think I'm still stuck over in June somewhere.
I really didn't realise how years shoot by; I'm not sure if at this point I should be contemplating my mortality, or feeling old. Don't really feel like either, but it does seem that the world as I know it has somehow picked up speed. Finding a person to drive the damn car to the airport is getting just plain silly. First nominee was Branflakes. I thought it would be more convient for Yojimbo to drive, so, i put Bran off, thinking, well, hey, it'd just be less fuss for Bran, and so on.
We got our flight changed to get the pooch on the plane, and Yojimbo and Bran are no longer options, as they both have pesky, pesky exams. Everyone else appears to be either hopelessly engaged, or unable to drive a stick; it may come down to Kurt or myself teaching someone how to do it. Suggestions, of course, are always welcome. 
