Going, Going, Gone

"A black cat dropped soundlessly from a high wall, like a spoonful of dark treacle, and melted under a gate."
- Elizabeth Lemarchand, Alibi for a Corpse (1969)

A nice cat quote for Emma, who has been sitting at my side these past few minutes begging, as only a cat can do and still maintain her pride, for a quick rub behind the ears. And I, of course, oblige her with an obligatory scratch, having been trained well these past few years since she's been home.

KC has already crashed for the night, and I am not too far behind her. It's a sticky sort of hot in the house tonight, and I can think of nothing better than to retire to my room, where I can turn on the fan full blast and bathe myself in waves of cold, soft air. An idea that sounds so good, I've lost all will to blog much further.

In fact ...