Lola

So, I've been away.

I rekindled a relationship with an old flame--still going, by the way--got a job that I tolerate while I prepare applications for law schools, saw my sister get married (even while I can't--at least not to whom I would choose in this state), mourned the election results (like the other 49% of the population), turned 30, survived the LSAT, and I'm pretty much no worse for the wear.

So I've got this cat, kitten really, that I'm not particularly inclined to care for. Sure, I consented to bring her home, but on a temporary basis. If my heart remains unchanged, she'll be going to live elsewhere within a week. I won't have her destroyed, mind you; I have enough veterinarian friends to see to that. But, like I said, I'm not particularly inclined to care for this kitten.

It's small, weak, unproductive and given to consuming resources I can scarcely afford to provide, among all the other crap that kittens do. Am I just a heartless bastard? She's cute enough, I just don't like her.

Yeah, and her name's Lola.