It's so good not to be ashamed of where you live.  It strikes me anew from nowhere from time to time: I can have people over, and feel good about it.  I am in control of my living space, and it is as orderly as I like, and it only takes a little time to keep it so.  It feels good to be here, to wake up and find things where they should be, and not have a giant water balloon of guilt upon me.  I don't feel defeated by my own environment and the despair of trying to overcome it when it would only overcome me yet again.

    Spodie is potty training again.  I had intended to take it up again, but the decision was sped up by seeing him at the litter box the other day, perching three of his feet on the rim, as though on a toilet seat.  If he'd tried to get the fourth paw up, he would have lost balance or tipped the box over.  He remembers the lessons of his kittenhood, and it seems time to resume them.  So far it looks encouraging.  He seemed fascinated to find the aluminum pan in the toilet, just as it used to be, and he jumped up and down over and over again for an hour or so before he had to use it.  I haven't caught him in the act yet, so I don't know how many paws he has on the seat rather than in the pan.  I hope it's all four.  At least it is certain he is using it; it has to be cleaned out regularly.

    That reminds me, I gotta go out and get some kitty litter.

    There is a quiet calm all around me today.  It's hard to express.  It feel like depression, in that it is a bit heavy and dark, kind of lethargic, but it is not negative - rather, uhm, satisfied.  I feel sad, but a good sad.  It's a weary sort of sad, and it's born up out of contentment.  Maybe this is the "Is There Nothing More Blues."  :-)

    Life is good these days.