The Cat Came Back.
The door burst open just now, admitting an importunate Brythen who charged through the livingroom leaving black muddy footprints everywhere.
Philmophlegm began to sing his own version of the song, which goes:
"But the dog came back,
An indeterminate amount of time later
The dog came back
At a time of his own choosing..."
I really wish this were less true.
In other news, this week I leaned over to grab an insignificant weed, twisted *just the wrong way* and did something to my back, which left me flailing in extreme agony in the mud. Note to self, if your back 'goes' it probably is worth the pain to just stand up again. Do NOT lie down. You will only have to stand up again at some point.
It has still not entirely gone away, and I have some sort of fluey thing as well, just as a twofer. Bah.