The nausea seems to be easing, at least a bit. Yesterday I went into the washroom at work twice without retching from the stink of the McDonald's that's downstairs. (I have been polishing my hatred of McDonald's to a fine sheen over the past six weeks. Every day I loathe the place just a little bit more.)
We took Martha and Charlotte to the vet this morning for their annual oil change and tire rotation. The (extremely nice) vet, who sent flowers when James died, was quite taken with our accounts of Martha's obsession with the rainbow snake. Both kitties are very healthy and well-adjusted. Hooray.
The office cat is an enormous, infinitely mellow tabby named Pushkin. He let me hold him on my lap for a little while. When I hefted him up, I got unexpectedly teary-eyed because his shape and weight and brown tabby goodness reminded me so much of the greatness that was James. I've been missing him a lot lately. He was so very excellent.
I loves me my cats. My parents tell me that my first word was "kitty."
I am currently trying to achieve escape velocity from the apartment so that I can get to the gym, and then have time for a shower and lunch after my workout before I have to be at work at 1:30. I guess I should put the computer down and back away.
By the way, all, comments are welcome. I hope to get a blogroll going soon, so I can feel a bit more like I'm actually participating in something, and less like I'm just sending stuff off into the nothingness.
Off to lift heavy things.