The cat has gone a bit feral, at least toward me. I am not sure why. He howls for attention, but hisses at me when I approach. Before the rest of the family left for Tahoe, I thought we had reached détente, but alas, no such luck. He plays with Isabelle, Karen, even the fuckin' dog! But I, who feed him and clean his shitbox, I get hisses and howls!?
He must be aware how little I like him after his murder of the other, much kinder cat. Still, I am a bit lonely in the house with just the murderous ungrateful little bastard for company.
Ah well, I got quite a bit written yesterday. I have a more than a little bit remaining, but my confidence grows with each page. The murderous little cat is helpful in this, as I am writing the denoument of the murderous bastards behind the plot to take over government of the colony. It's always good to have examples in life.
The day job was entertaining yesterday, as we had two Pro Temp Commissioners, both of whom are good people with fine senses of humor that related entertaining tales to me.
Today I get the 600 mile maintenance on the bike dealt with. I read the book, but fail to find the Zen in such activity, so I pay professionals.
I've given up my slavish devotion to the World Cup. I will watch the next round, and perhaps the finals, but I am upset that both the Swiss and US teams are out. My remaining hope, the Spanish, are still in the hunt.
I am still reading Machiavelli again, and still pulling new thought from its every brief chapter. It is a tiny book, but I can't help but research the events mentioned as examples by the man at every turn. What a well-read man he was in an era when books cost insane amounts of money and few knew how to read.