I'm not dead or anything, just tired. After the Christmas vacation blitz I had a several-days' run of the legal research that isn't really frequent enough to qualify as any sort of "day job," but pays some portion of the bills, and while the Arcade Fire put on a good show, it caused us to miss the last BART out of San Francisco by five minutes, after which followed a terrible experience walking around Mission Street in the middle of the night trying to find a bus terminal, which drove home that often there is nothing genteel about genteel poverty—it just sucks. Under these circumstances it came as a great blow to learn that Fred's Market no longer stocks cat litter. And if that got me down, think how the cat feels.
