Well, Immanuel Kat is keeping his ends to himself and has settled into the cat tree in the office. Saul Kripkat, the loving, younger boy, won't stop meowing once we leave the bathroom. So the real philosopher in the house is reading in the bathroom to keep Saul Kripkat company. (If we let him out he'll just hide behind the couch and meow.)

I had sushi for lunch from the cafeteria in the office building next door. I hope I don't regret that decision. It seemed fine. I liked the nigiri (tuna and red snapper) and the sashimi (salmon) just fine but man, I get sketched out by the spicy tuna roll (it was in a prepackaged combo so there wasn't any way around it). It is just texturally weird to me, and you can't even taste the fish.

So I feel all protein-ated and not overly logey.

I wonder if "conquest of the nation" is a codeword for beginning Glen Beck's revolution and they got the wrong number.

Maybe you should have responded, "DOMINATE YOUR FACE!"

falls off chair in love with Nora.

Maybe you should have responded, "DOMINATE YOUR FACE!"

My brain is too slow, by the time I processed that he had already hung up.

I totally smell like bubble gum and beer. WHY?

We've experienced our first casualty of the master/pet dialectic (first iteration): Immanuel Kat gave me some deep, bloody chest scratches when I made the mistake of trying to pick him up. But at least Kripkat calmed down for as long as it took for Bob Bob to bandage my entire cleavage.

I am pretty sure you need to give up lawyering and start a Philosophy Kat blog.

Maybe you should have responded, "DOMINATE YOUR FACE!"

Now I want to Google and find out what happened to Dominate Your Face Guy.

Thanks, java. I have a sinking suspicion that most parenting decisions are motivated by guilt. At least most of mine are.

Immanuel Kat is the apex of cat names.