When I ventured out yesterday to forage for supplies, I found everything already foraged. When I sink my teeth into the Wonder Bread the jingle plays in my head: "Just a little slice of America, Wonder Bread." So evidently America tastes like sawdust.
Nineveh was a street cat for a while before being abducted and spayed by a good Samaritan, who gave her to me. So instead of being outside in the hurricane she's dozing on my bed, as a cat ought to be. She was keeping an eye on things for a while there, from the windowsill, but she seems to have lost interest in the whole business.