we've gotta hold on to what we've got
doesn't make a difference if we make it or not… *insert jon bon jovi yowlin' here*

Y'know, it's moments like these that I almost miss the 1980s. It's something about the big hair and guys in nicely frayed jeans and…oh, wait, this is more than you wanted to know, isn't it?moving on:

For some reason, two mp3s that I downloaded tonight evidently had crappy bass, so I was starting to get concerned. I decided to do what's euphemistically known as a "speaker check" just to make sure everything was working okay. Never fear; the speakers are just fine, but I have to admit that I wonder how Edmund slept through all that.

Speaking of Edmund and sleeping, that goofy cat seems to be getting more possessive of me by the day. When I sit at the computer (to work on something, or to chat with friends) he always has to sit on top of my desk, either bathing or sleeping or just watching me. Since I got my hair chopped off, Jeff likes to come up behind me and scratch my neck. Seeing as how I'm a sucker for that, I'll sit still for that just as long as he's willing to do it.

The problem—Edmund appears to be jealous of this! The past couple of nights, when Jeff did this, Edmund would start rolling around on the desk, doing what we call his "cat slut" impression, begging to have his belly and head scratched. Jeff has taken to petting him and saying, "Was I petting the wrong kitty?"

Either way, it makes the silly cat happy.

I generally read after crawling in bed, and normally I read while sprawled out on my stomach. Lately, Edmund's taken to immediately jumping in bed with me, and kneading my shoulders (mercilessly! sometimes painfully!) while I read. Last night, this continued past the time that I turned the light out. I ended up dozing on my back. Edmund tucked his head up at the top of my head and curved himself around the left side of my head, resting his belly against my left ear and tucking his hind legs by my cheek. I went to sleep with his tail thumping my neck. I get the impression the little furry critter was happy—something about the roaring purr gave it away.

Today was an odd day—I really didn't want to be at work, but I toughed it out. There are some days where I'm almost desperately antisocial. Andy calls it the days 'where you want to crawl in a hole and pull the hole in after you.' I compensated today by putting on my headphones and learning something new—in today's case, Flash 4. I figure in a couple more days I'll have it mastered. (Literally. For some reason, graphics programs and I just….get along in this weird telepathic way.)

My next things to tackle—mySQL and PHP. My guess is that mySQL isn't going to take too terribly long to learn (at least, not to the level I'll need) but that I'll be digging into PHP for a while. I'm trying to concentrate on the presentation end of website development. After all this I'll probably go back and bone up on the superfine points of Illustrator, because there are some things I've not quite mastered yet (some things regarding the line tool come to mind). Odd to think that I consider something like that a bit of a treat.

Today's odd and random thought that occurred to me while driving to work: have you ever wondered what will be said about you after you die? The more I ponder that, the less I'm sure of what will be said in my case. Odd to think that what I'm doing right now gives a better glimpse into my life than what many people have ever been able to actually pull out of me in conversation.

It's easier to say things like this—just me, staring at a computer screen, words flowing haltingly through my fingers, through the keyboard, through the arcana of markup language and into a browser on a screen that somehow got set to this page. I try to picture the people reading this as a little bit curious, a little bit voyeuristic, taking me up on the opportunity to see what I'm like when I deliberately let my guard down a bit.

(Hi, this is me, and just remember that on the inside you're just as banal and set in your ways as I am. I've just got the boredom and chutzpah to admit it.)

As for the thought and question? Who knows. I think at heart I'm probably a decent person, and that a few people realize that, but most of the time I'm content to stay within my quiet life (my garden, my cats, my small circle of friends) and let the world go on without me. I'd prefer it that way, I think.

Thus ends tonight's saga of the domesticat. Go forth and be nice to yourself for a change.