[m i a o w] the cat

I am plummeting headlong toward Christmas and can feel it all whistling past my ears. It’s my last week of work. My radiator has called it quits. The price of copper is up. My remaining finances are down. I owe M big time for driving an hour into town this morning to drop me off at work. And then driving another hour back to boat land. Saw fabulous fireworks last night at Caulfield Park (odd, really, considering the total fire ban) and hopefully will have some interesting fireworky pictures to post when my sievelike brain can locate lead for camera. Can hardly type due to overflowing neural pathways. When car is back, things might become more cohesive. Or not. Depends on whether I remember to make potato salad for Christmas Day and to do copious fruit and vegetable shopping on Christmas Eve and whether I can find my proper Victoria-is-freezing-except-when-it-is-42-degrees -why-do-I-live-here-can’t-remember-oh-that’s-right-boat-building -opportunities-with-shed-and-slipway wetsuit. It’s all relative. But that’s the thing about Christmas.