I’m get­ting a sec­ond cat. Aaron’s par­ents are mov­ing, and his 14-year-old Patches needs a new home. Aaron bought Patches him­self, paid for his toys, food, lit­ter, shots, and declaw­ing with his own paper route money as a kid. I’ll be damned if his par­ents sim­ply give him away to the first home they find. Instead, Patches will be liv­ing with me here, and Aaron can come visit when­ever he wants. The main adjust­ment that needs to be done is the fre­quency with which I need to buy food and lit­ter. Patches used to be 25 pounds before he went on a diet, so I’m expect­ing either a very fat cat or a very flabby cat. Aaron has assured me that his stom­ach will drag on the ground for the rest of his life.

All I need now is my own sit­com. It’d be called “Emography” and fea­ture the adven­tures of an unem­ployed com­puter sci­en­tist liv­ing with his two cats, Teardrop and Raine, scar­ing away girls with his over-sensitivity.