It’s 7 p.m., and the work day’s been a blur of interruptions, crises, and hurried new definitions and clarifications for our new change control process, which I’m in charge of. I’ve got several pieces of audit information I’m late delivering; I’m hoping that my boss either accepts this tardiness or won’t notice until I’ve corrected it. I’ve got errands to run while down here in Boston, and I’m concerned that I won’t get out of work in time to get to the stores necessary. I’m waiting to hear whether some prospective new tenants for the house my brothers and I own are going to sign the lease for 12/1. Also, Kate just called me and let me know that Carlos, my favorite orange cat, has been out all day and hasn’t come home yet.

Coming as a capstone to the rest of the stressors in the preceding paragraph, I very nearly cried, hearing her tell me this. I’m trying to reassure myself that Lucy has pulled the same “stay out until we freak out” trick in the past, and that he’s both agile and very, very quick… but man, two days before leaving the country on a joyous honeymoon is a singularly craptastic time to be sitting and contemplating the various horrors a country forest in autumn holds for a house cat. Especially a forest two hours away that I can’t go out combing with a flashlight.

So instead I’ll offer a little prayer for all the orange mammals far from home right now, try to get some traction on some work, and then go run these errands while my stomach tries to unknot itself.