I bought collars for the kitties with little bells on them-- hot pink for Neko and blue with little flowers for Lucy. They didn't mind them nearly as much as I anticipated. And now I have the comfort of knowing that if they were to get out and someone found them, they would have reason to assume that there was someone out there who missed and loved them very much. Neko is also going though her first heat, which as a kittie mother make me rather uncomfortable. I'm going to see what I can do about getting her in over spring break to have all of that taken care of.

In other unimportant news, I think I may be developing a thing for the woman that I see around all the time in Collins. I always see her during the day when she's on her way to class and then I always see her again when I'm around for my night classes because she cleans at night. She's older, serious looking, walks like she's the toughest person in the city-- all things I like. But I still worry that any attraction I have to her might simply be out of desperation. I'm sure some would think that my worry alone would be an indication of it being a desperate attraction, except that I have an inexplicable attraction to older, stereotypically butch women that I don't always like to admit to. I have an animal attraction to anyone who looks like they could protect me. Plus, at night when she's cleaning she walks around with a sort of vacuum cleaner jet-pack which I find hilarious and strangely endearing. But she is short and maybe too stereotypical. I think at this point, I would have to talk to her and find out if she's intelligent and witty, because that would close the deal. But I don't see myself doing that any time soon and my level of investment in the whole thing isn't that high. Whatever. I've just made myself sound incredibly shallow, haven't I?

Anyway. Thus far, my memoir about high school (written in the second person, which I am incredibly proud of) is getting pretty good comments from the other people in class, so I'm feeling good about it. It, however, annoys me that although I give a clearly female description of myself everyone is confused as to whether or not the 'you' in the piece is male or female because the 'you' is obsessed with a girl. Futhermore, it's a fucking memoir, which implies that it is an account of my own experience and I am clearly female so I think that from that alone one could infer that the 'you' in the piece is female. Whatever. I'm not going to get hung up on it because it's a damn good piece.

And now it's time for pizza and a movie with Kyle and Sarah. I made brownies and they're fucking wonderful.

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