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Katherine's cat seems to have figured out that the best place for getting ear scratches while I'm working is on my lap. I've officially got a purring lap-warmer (and, incedentally, fur all over the front of my nightgown). Which is good - since the other cat is sick, and it's really gross, but purring cats make up for it.

Essay-wise, things are slowly coming together. Work-wise, I got promoted, and I'm very very pleased. 'cause, yay, no more last-minute shite! (Or not much, at any rate. And not once they've got someone else trained to handle it.) Now I just need to find a part-time thing in Montreal for the summer to avoid getting dragged back to The Middle Of Nowhere with The Annoyances, The Nosy One, and The Absent One (aka my sibblings, my mother, and my father).

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The Cat seems to think that my bookcases are a jungle gym, and that he's meant to attempt to climb over every pile of books and shelf there is. Occasionally he'll knock a book off, but it's just really funny to reach for a book and find the cat sitting on it staring at me.

I really do miss having pets... and I'm rather partial to having big dogs. They're lovely. But big dogs in a third-floor city apartment is probably not the best of all ideas. So. I'm considering a cat. But I'm not sure. It's something to think about.

So. I'm supposed to be hanging out with a friend today, and have breakfast with The Girlfriend and some friends tomorrow... and find time to write and research two papers sometime in there... and write up the minutes for last week's business meeting... and the review letters, and modify the protocols, and all the rest of it. I'm getting the feeling that I should be freaking, but there's a limit to the amount of time that can be spent freaking before lapsing into a sort of indifference where you honestly don't give a flying fuck about anything. And I've reached that point. But I'll hopefully manage to lecture myself into doing at least SOME work today and tomorrow.