I gave up on Fringe this week. You know, Fringe? "The show everyone's talking about!" It was on and I had the opportunity to watch it and I just didn't. Mrs. Ditchman said, "Your show is on," and I just said "No thanks," and went upstairs. She put on DWTS (which is on two nights in a row, in case you were wondering.) It was a strange, slightly guilty feeling giving up on the show like that -like breaking up with a cute girlfriend who you wanted to like but though she claimed to be enamored of you she always treated you with a mild, underhanded contempt. We were mid-story, and I just found myself not caring what happened and resigned myself to never finding out.

In a similar vein, or perhaps not, I am about two-thirds of the way through a book and reached a couple chapters I had already read. They were the chapters that got me hooked -I picked up the book a while back and just started reading somewhere in there and found it all compelling enough to start from the beginning, (which is saying something.) Now I've reached that section, and I'm wondering if I should just skip ahead or re-read. It doesn't matter, but I'd be finished faster, I guess. I'm not someone who puts back books just to grow the list, rather, I want to get something out of them. Is this one giving me anything? Meh. It's merely a good read. I can tell, because I started to skim those chapters and found that I only recalled, like, half of it.

And so if these are the things that trouble me most in life, then I'm a lucky man! But truth be told, I have other troubles, and relaying them here would be a sour, pessimistic way to end the week and have a weekend. It's Friday! And I have as much work to do today as I've had all week and half the energy to do it! We're all still sick here, some of us seem to be fairing worse, and even the cat's sick -which has us worried. He's old. And what do you do for a cat? It's not like you're going to give him a Tylenol, wrap him in blankets, talk sympathy and lovingly feed him Campbell's Chicken Noodle -no, he just has to suffer through the illness. Poor cat. He's lucky too, though. I mean, he's 19 and what's the lifespan of a Persian Cat in the wild? Ahhh, the wilds of windswept Persia, where prides of Persian Cats roam -among the fittest players in Nature's awesome display of the daily struggle to survive in the animal kingdom. Now there's a TV show I'd watch. On Domestic Animal Planet Network.

Have a purrrrr-fect weekend! (Sorry.)



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