The sound was there all the way through on last night's tape.
I am dressed, I have found a smallish hike to do on the ocean in Pismo Beach (Pirate's Cove).
My bed sheets are changed. Simba makes it quite a challenge. He first settles on the bed, then when I move him he tears into the sheets, goes under them grabs them from me. It is funny, really. This time I made him into the bed and he couldn't find the right way out. He finally powered his way out the side, pulling out the tucks.
It's worth changing them because of the fur alone. It accumulates on the sheets and pillow cases. One thing's sure: whatever man I invite into my bed next needs to be cool with cats. And no allergies. I don't see that one on the matching criteria, the allergy one. For me, it's big because I do kick up dust in the house (in spite of a hepa-filtered vacuum and an air cleaner) and I do have these critters.
I circled several ads in New Times today. After my hike I'll call one, leave a message on the voice mail. I am making that announcement here so I will do it.
That thing on my leg was - is - a rash, all right. It is healing the way a poison oak rash would heal, drying up. Maybe it was some kind of relative that was there in the desert. Having the rash made me think of these folks who go deep into jungles and other remote places and get bitten and poked and infected and have really limited resources. So they swell up and are uncomfortable and everything gets worse day after day. I suppose I could handle it if I were committed enough to what I was there for. But it makes me glad I don't have to handle it that way. I can take one problem at a time, usually. FIx it, move on.