July 17, 2018

Our fake president commits treason in front of a microphone while millions watch. It’s one of those memorable days in a person’s life. The Republican Congress has so far not bestirred itself to impeach, which is–besides summary arrest– the only adequate response. Pence must be carried along in the flood. The whole Cabinet too.

Cats rallied later in the day. I was happy. But the end, for Maud anyway, cannot be far off. I say to her, “Tell me when you’re just too tired,” but she eats, she demands that I turn on the faucet, she purrs when I pet her. Circe climbs into bed and bumps desperately against me.

Write. Sleep. How long can it go on?