I think this is. . .Day Six?

This morning I got a little angry at my cat. I think I was frustrated at having to clean his litter box and feed him and pay him some attention when all I wanted was a cup of coffee and few hundred words written. He was weaving around my legs and standing in front of me as I was walking, making me trip over him on occasion. I was like, I'm not getting any more pets after Sal, but I remembered all the good times we had together, and all the frosty nights when he curled up beside me in bed. I'm going to apologize later.

I was angry because I did very little work yesterday. I made dinner and watched Battlestar Galactica instead. My plan was to get up early today and double my efforts ("The Emperor does not share your optimistic appraisal of the situation") to make up for last night. Sal seemed like an obstacle, one that I erected myself.

Now's he's snoozing in the hallway in a patch of warm sunlight.