20 hours have passed but a day has been temporarily gained. I am home alone on a Friday afternoon, as my family have disappeared to celebrate Grandpa's 90th birthday.
I left the house at 9 in the morning, the taxi I had reserved the night before showing up on time. I felt so lush, dashing off to the bus station in a taxi I had reserved. Taxis themselves are nothing to me, but to have arranged a pick up just feels so much more posh.
My cat is climbing all over my desk right now, scrambling mom's papers and drooling on my fingers in his glee at finally finding me home again. I am such a soft touch for him, covered as I was in orange and white cat hairs withing 15 minutes of walking in the door. He is lying belly up now, with his head depressing the number keys, so I think it is time to stop.
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