Packing for one person, packing for one month. FunkyPlaid leaves tomorrow on his visit to the Bay Area.

We clipped the cats’ nails because it has become a two-person job. Although one will sit patiently and let you do pretty much anything, the other contorts the upper half of his body independently from the lower half, creating a double-vectored cat-tornado. But both cats eagerly anticipate a dollop of hairball control paste for their trouble, which is basically malt-flavoured petroleum jelly. Cats are weird.

I just received spam offering a glimpse into anyone’s criminal records.

FunkyPlaid’s departure is bringing up all sorts of weird feelings for me. Now we do this in reverse: last August, he came here and I stayed there. But now home is here, and feels very solidly here, whereas I had been breaking off from San Francisco for years, in little ice-floes that melted away. I don’t know what I will be stepping onto when I go back in a few weeks. The sheer phrasing of it, “go back,” is making me uneasy.

Then I suppose the only thing to do is to go forward to it in a different direction.

Next time I want to be poetic, I will take my bra off the radiator first.

I look up from my laptop and Zen has the crazy eyes on. This won’t end well.

One of FunkyPlaid’s university colleagues found a gluten-free beer for me! I am excited to try it, but not tonight because all of the brain cells have already been wrecked on the desolate shores of a short-story revision.

I did not expect to live-tweet part of the London 2012 Olympic Games’ opening ceremony tonight, but I got swept up watching that much promise, talent, and enthusiasm concentrated in one place.

What’s your favourite Olympic sport? I like archery!