There is a cat who’s been living under our back steps and comes out to greet me, very vocally, whenever I come home. She’ll follow me around to the front, up onto the porch, and try to nudge her way through the front door unless I block her. My heart breaks every time I have to leave her sitting out there in the cold. The last few days, my roommates and I have been keeping an eye on her, and I’ve been leaving some food out every night. She’s scrawny and very obviously starving, both for food and attention. Tonight, I went out on the porch to enjoy the cool night air and have my first beer in six days. As soon as I sat down, the cat hopped onto my lap, put her front paws on my chest, and leaned in to look me straight in the eyes, face to face. I briefly worried about the germs and diseases that a stray cat might carry, but I couldn’t help it. I petted her and eventually pushed her off my lap, after she had thoroughly kneaded her front paws against my work clothes. I came back inside and immediately printed off a bunch of FOUND posters, which I will put up tomorrow. If no one claims her, I guess I’ll have to take her to the animal shelter. I’ve heard they hold animals there for three weeks, then put them to sleep. I don’t want that to happen.

The other morning, I was lying in bed, playing with my new cell phone, watching the Daily Show. A commercial for the new PT Anderson movie came on. I sat through it, and when it was over, I made a note of the release date, tried to close my gaping jaw, and returned to my stupid phone, realizing with not a little shame that I was never going to accompish anything nearly tantamount to Anderson’s achievements as long as I was sleeping in and lying in bed playing with my cell phone.