Wigging out indoors.

I’m starting to feel one of the side effects of COVID-19: Cabin Fever. I’ve become acclimatized to a very narrow range of temperatures of 18-20ºC. The only time I don’t see Yann is when he uses the washroom, and sometimes I go in there just to be alone. I’ve been experimenting with aerating my meals, making egg soufflé and soufflé pancakes, which I then pair with a glass of club soda. Yeah, I have a lot of air in my diet. (And cat hair. I cleaned out the fridge yesterday. HOW DID THAT MUCH CAT HAIR END UP INSIDE THE FRIDGE?)

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Reborn on the internet as a cat.

My top three skills are:

1. I’m exceptionally fast at throwing words up on the screen. My average is over 100 words per minute, and I can type in bursts of 130wpm, which puts me in the top 1%. This is almost meaningless, especially as I’m prone to repetitive strain injuries. At best, it allows me to make Boomers feel inadequate.

A circular digital alarm clock with camo pattern is shown with a Smartie shaped device meant to be inserted under the pillow to shake the person awake. The text reads
What a strongly worded product description.

2. I have excellent circadian rhythm. Ask me what time it is, and I’m usually able to correctly guess within a 15-minute range. I don’t need an alarm clock to wake up (many deaf people use either a flashing or a vibrating alarm clock). Jet lag doesn’t seem to affect my internal clock: I can still get up at 5am Japan Standard Time if needed, and I have!

3. I have the world’s most airtight asshole. Of course, I fart, but I do so within the confines of a washroom, or when I’m alone. I never fart in public. The ex with whom I lived for more than five years can vouch for this, as can Yann, my co-habitator of three years. This is a skill I’ve developed out of what I believe to be basic decency.

But enough about me. Please now direct your attention to…

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The 18 lives of Bubble and Enfoiré.

Yesterday morning, I started my day with a seventeen-minute-long video of a husky named Gohan eating his fancy chow. This is what I’ve replaced social media with: YouTube videos of dogs eating. I was not going to watch the entire video, but the cats found it to be quite captivating. I don’t even feel bad: this video has 3.4 million views, and Gohan is heckin’ adorable.

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Stealthy, like a fat cat.

After being reunited with my phone after it spent the night in a Park Tool caliper case at work, I slipped it in my jersey pocket and prepared my bike for a long ride. Monday was a civic holiday: BC day. It was fitting that I had the day off while Yann, a Québecois, had to work.

It was going to be a warm day, so before leaving, I made sure to freshen the cats’ water dish. I waved goodbye to Bubble who was tucked into a cat loaf on the couch. Enfoiré, our round son, was neither on the couch nor in the cat tree. I checked the bed: not there. On the fridge with his front paws hanging over the freezer door? Nope. Had he slipped into the washroom without me noticing and was now gnawing on the plastic shower curtain? No.

In under 24 hours, I had lost my phone AND eighteen-pound cat!

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