Allow me to share my frustrations about the way I wake up every morning… My little cat Lilah has been this way since the day I adopted her: every morning at around 5 or 6 am, she wakes me up by crawling all over my face and kissing me on the mouth, neck, eyes, or wherever she can reach. If that doesn’t work, she drapes herself over me and casually contracts and detracts her pointy little claws on whatever patch of skin is left exposed — usually somewhere on my face.

Next, while I’m getting ready for the day, she inserts herself between me and whatever I am trying to look at – computer screen, phone, magazine, homework, mirror, you name it.. Observe Exhibit B:

Finally, as I walk out the door, she sprawls out on something soft and comfy – usually the same spot where she woke me up – undeniably mocking me for having to leave for work while she stays home and naps.

Oh well… she’s so darn cute, I can’t stay mad at her for long.

“When you are in the middle of a story it isn’t a story at all, but only a confusion; a dark roaring, a blindness, a wreckage of shattered glass and splintered wood, like a house in a whirlwind, or else a boat crushed by the icebergs or swept over the rapids, and all aboard powerless to stop it. It’s only afterwards that it becomes anything like a story at all. When you are telling it, to yourself or to someone else.” -Margaret Atwood

“you have to take that first step; and once you’ve taken that first step, the second one seems a little easier.”

“you can’t just do one thing.”

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