I tried to take a Samhain cat nap wishing I could nap thinking I wish I was a cat and then I felt a cat walking on the bed but when I looked no cat was there but I still felt cat footsteps around me. I was sure I did not sleep but it was an hour later. I thought maybe Bourgeois Coldness was too academic for my concentration, or the language for my brain, academic, not arcane, and I started Frankenstein and that sounded arcane, and I'm going to put it back in the little library, anyway I got The Rhyl Poster in the bath and I keep drawing my mind back, thinking of the cat and other things, and I think it's not always the book, it's me. Suddenly I ask what time and R. says 5:22 and I've been soaking an hour. My soles are puckered. I emerge and R. says You've got the life and I wonder what happened to the crocheted bee from the farmers market I gave Olive last week and we look all over and it's mysteriously vanished and finally R. finds it secreted in a dark corner under the dining room bookcase, because Olive couldn't make it fit under the radiator. She acts like, That thing? Boring. Ok now I'm hungry.
