Physically, but not emotionally

When I cook, it usually involves poking holes in plastic and programming the microwave oven. Even that ritual is rare, as I usually opt for fast food or, more likely, nothing much at all. This is a major difference  [more...]

Why, when I get home, does Squeaker sat and stare at me for at least half an hour? Is he wondering who I am? Or is he trying to freak me out?

Maybe he is the one responsible for the clock radio shenanigans.

My friend and co-worker Marcia has been undergoing the [challenge? horror?] of breast cancer for what seems like a very long time now. Since her ordeal began, she’s been out of the office for long periods of time  [more...]