I received a one-cat escort from my car to the nearly the front yard today (I like to park in front of Susan's house --  she also works at Savannah Tech -- which is about three houses away). I took it to mean that Stella and I were back on good terms after a near-fatal bite to my forearm after I attempted to scoot her hindquarters on a towel that I prefer she lie on while she lounges on my bed. Sally reminded me that cats don't like to be touched there and added that it's a good thing Stella just got all her shots. 

I'm enjoying sitting in her spot now, next to the open window. I feel unmotivated on this perfectly mild spring day, February in Savannah. Others are making progress: tidying papers in an expandable file after completing a tax preview, building a brick fence that was the result of many design and planning hours, blowing leaves and getting ready for the really big event: St. Patrick's Day.

I'm thinking about an escape this year. That is, if I can get motivated and move beyond this President's Day Monday malaise. Thinking of Jimmy Carter (thanks to Bill Nigut, Political Rewind) and others.