I feel I'm moving sideways with the journal, not upset, not losing interest, just treading water and wondering what might be next. I started this while I was living in a mother-in-law unit up the way near Berkeley, low ceilings, new job, making good money, but broke, since I had a ton of debt and nowhere to go but to pay it off. Depressing, but nice when it was finished. Chapter over, time for another, and the journal, part and parcel of the past, will change with it, I just don't know how or why or what. I've had this feeling that my current job will evaporate from under me some time next year, a feeling that doesn't necessarily have any basis in fact, but a feeling that demands some attention. There is a certain exhilaration in this and a certain need to prepare, but prepare for what? Is it enough to keep writing and shooting pictures and playing with webs? I think maybe it doesn't matter, because that's what I'm going to do, sensible or not. The grasshopper and the ant. What's your plan, grasshopper man?

A small recap on the Wuss: He's eating pretty good and I think he's gained weight. He still pees on things, mostly on one or two chairs here in the living room (like the one I'm sitting on) while he's sleeping and occasionally on my desk when he's jumping up and down to get my attention when I get home from work. Nature's Miracle, recommended to me by experts, takes care of the stain and the smell. Otherwise, he pretty much stays corked.

Life has it's little ups and downs. I wash the bed linen more often. I find a puddle and I clean it up. Doesn't happen as often as it once did. We've recently made a compromise and he's happy to lie on my lap as I'm typing instead of up on the desk next to the keyboard with his head on my left hand, more comfortable, I think, for the both of us. Cat and old fart on the alert, watching over the city, here in Oakland.