There’s a notice on my apartment building’s door from a location scout looking for an apartment to use for a Ben Stiller movie. Of course, my first thought was, “No, I could never do that—it would require me to clean my apartment.” Only 10 minutes later did it occur to me that 1) I have no place to stash my cats for a week, and 2) likely they would not want to use 6th-floor walkup anyway.
(Speaking of which, I felt like I was going to pass out when I got up the stairs tonight. It was rather worrying—I mean, I’m usually out of breath, but not that bad! Then I remembered that I’m short a pint of blood [blood drive at work today]. I suppose I should eat something before breaking open that bottle of moscato I picked up on the way home.)
