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packed

I'm ready to go. I am going to drop off the cable bill at the cable office and drop the phone bill in the mail. Get some coffee in my to-go cup, grab some food at a grocery, probably, to put in the little cooler. I'd like to stop at Leon's books to find Iris Murdoch and Erskine Caldwell but it probably doesn't open until ten. I'm bringing the Caldwell bio and Jay's book.

Bullet wants to get out. I have been thwarting his efforts. Those who have come to feed the beasties have often kept him inside the whole time and they said he handled it fine. I feel better having him inside. Simba still bats at him but half-heartedly, and is even starting to explore him a little, sniff around. Maybe that means they will become friends, as much as they can. Simba's personality has taken over here, and that makes me compensate with Bullet, give him some extra attention. He's clearly no. 2 on the cat ladder but not with me.

What have I forgotten? It doesn't matter, I don't think. I brought couple of choices for the meeting and dinner, and just the pair of jeans I have on, plus a few shirts. I didn't go for knocking anyone out. Not that I could, really. I don't have expensive, well-cut clothes. I would like them, though. That would be nice.

Yesterday I bought biscotti and lemon bars for the gang at work, and then later remembered that I won't be going to work. Rather than head south and then north, I'll bring them along. Maybe when the fam gathers others will appreciate them. I worry about the lemon bars, worry about eating them myself.

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