I'm going to file this statement under "death wish fulfillment":

It always seems to end like this; a time full of solitude ending with a drive to Atlanta, resulting in a Sunday-morning urge to write before the wakening of the house disturbs the morning quiet. Not a bad thing, really, for someone who has been suffering from something that, from the correct angle, holds a distinct resemblance of writer's block.

Your regularly-scheduled domesticat entry shall not appear here this evening, canceled due to sadly extraordinary life events. After a good bit of cross-checking with friends, we still don't know much about what happened, but what we do know is this: someone whom my friends and I have worked with on dragon*con tech staff, someone whom I probably would've called a friend on staff, has been charged with involuntary manslaughter.

I realize that it's cheeky of me to rant and ramp about the parenting choices of other people when spouse and I do not have children ourselves, but there are some decisions that just strike me as incredibly wrong, even from a childless person's standpoint.

There's ample evidence indicating that I haven't been the alpha being in this (feline-controlled?) house for quite some time. Last night, when I walked past the kitty perch, Edmund, in his usual place, batted round, innocent eyes at me. He rolled from his side to his back, presenting his belly and all four paws in the air.