The cat is currently tearing around the house in an attempt to communicate just how hungry he really is. Tearing around involves lots of wild cornering, tearing up tufts of carpet if the corner is carpeted, sliding waaaaay out of control and banging into walls if the floor is lino or tiles, jumping on top of any available surface and knocking whatever already occupies that surface to the floor, and generally looking for trouble. Or smooth shiny tabletops with tablecloths that can be decimated. Newspapers also lurk dangerously and must be kept in line. There are also, and this is something I never realised before he came to protect us, extremely dangerous spots on the floor. I'm not sure what, exactly, qualifies these spots as dangerous, since they don't look any different from other parts of the floor that I can tell. But no doubt the cat knows best.
It is just possible the cat is a brat.
In other news, I have been hunting for a satchel, a nice casual satchel of canvas or denim (none of these fancy leathers or nylons, thanks) for, oh, a year and a half now. So far, no luck. Now, I don't exactly live in a fashion capital, and I never get out to the independent markets (mostly because, well, we don't really have any in this city), so I've been largely resigned to the fact that I will never find a satchel I like. But my brother (who is a most fashionable young man) got it into his head that he wanted a satchel, went out looking that morning, and found the perfect bag. And promptly bought the last one available. Honestly. I know I'm paranoid and all, but this is just offensive.
In other news again, my email is down. Completely kaput. My email provider is working hard to get things up and running again, but in the meantime, don't be offended if I don't reply to your email. I'm good, but I'm still working on those psychic powers.