Life with Felines: It is Cold

I know this because, despite their newly thick and silky coats, the cats curled up around me last night like I was their last hope of feline salvation, and when I woke up, they were still curled up exactly so, to the point where I had to shove them aside just to be able to reach the lamp. And because, despite my fleecy pjs, the moment my arm hit the apartment air, my brain went 'jesus, the heat needs to come on.' And so it did, moments later. The cats were then willing to unwind and go in search of food.

43 degrees, but it "feels like" 36. Expected high of 52 today. I shall come home to find them in a puddle of sunlight, each to their own window. And I shall be tempted to shove Boomer off his perch (I can't fit on Pandora's) and claim the sun for my own.


Oh no, wait, I won't. I'll be down in NYC for the Books of Wonder event. Must dress for Glamour as well as warmth, then....


(how does one glam middle-graders? I fear the answer...)

a probably hypothetical moral quandry

or, "If I am my brother's keeper, does that mean I can charge admission?"


I have a friend. Let's call this friend George.

George has a tendency to straight shooting and straight thinking, and assumes everyone else will be glad for both being shot and being thought at.

In this imperfect world, that is not always the case.

George has had ample years and friendly warnings to learn that fact, and yet it eludes, every time.

So. Watching George about to pull those straight-shooting guns once again, am I morally obligated in any way shape or form to warn my friend that it's probably going to backfire spectacularly? Or can I sit back and watch, assured that none of the resulting splatter is going to reach me?

And if I benefit from George's cluelessness (i.e. a project George might have gotten comes to me, instead), is there real guilt (as opposed to 'poor idiot George, wish you'd learn" sort) attached?