Sunday, May 1, 2022

... so if you're going to go away for four nights ...


... you can't expect me to cuddle up to you, can you?  I mean - you deserted me.  For what?  For a whole lot of paintings, very few of which had cats in them.  Or cat food.  So I don't see the point.

Gramsci will, doubtless, be all over me again by the time we go to bed.  And he doesn't know quite how exhausting half a day driving down the 5 can be, full of Tesla drivers hell bent on not making it till tomorrow.

 

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