First things first, Jeeves is a cat… my cat. But he’s not just a cat, and I’m not just saying that because I’m a crazy cat lady. Well, some might argue that I am, but if you knew my cat you’d know I’m entirely justified.
Let me put it this way, even MEN like my cat. A guy once said that he was “tits.” So that’s clearly a good thing.
Why the credit to Jeeves? He remembered me after my month-long absence.
He’d doing that thing that cats do where they lay just out of reach of you, acting all cute, daring you to try to pet them. The second you extend that olive branch in the form of a scratch they bolt like you were the spawn of Satan. Speaking of Satan, I came across Hell: A Novel by Robert Olen Butler while I was away, finished Freedom by Jonathan Franzen (who I’m all set to see at the Chicago Humanities Festival in November) and started a book by Douglas Coupland called All Families are Psychotic. Unsolicited opinions to follow, fret not.
All of this to say that I’m back in Chicago after a prolonged hiatus from reality. I haven’t had the chance to really “be one” with my decision to leave my program. Not having much of a plan is an understatement, but I have had job offers. That’s gotta count for something.
I am working on my children’s lit series and am about to embark upon a journey in which I will cook two DELECTABLE meals a day and force feed them to my mother who has the good fortune (?) of being my roommate until I am ready to accept that I might need a day job.