Do you remember the blizzard four years ago, when I stayed at Mark's house? We stayed up all night with Melanie and her boyfriend drinking beers and yelling at the TV, and we had a great time. The next day, there was a foot of snow on the ground, and I had to get home wearing cowboy boots to feed my cat. The boots acted, more or less, like sleds. It was a treacherous walk, and I slipped many times. When I got home, the cat was starving. She was frantic, skittering around in circles by her food bowl and meowing. I guess I'd been gone for over 24 hours.
This morning I've woken up and drank the coffee that Billy made before he left, and I've observed the cats (I have two now) sitting hopefully by their bowls. There's no food in the house for them. In general, I like to think I'm a good owner, a talented nurturer, but I have to tell you that I can be totally selfish sometimes. I have no plans of going to the store. Let them starve, I think uncharitably as I drink my coffee. Of COURSE I'll get them fed eventually, but you have to understand, what I'm trying to say, is that I'm not motivated. I think there's something a little wrong with that.
