That's not an apology

I got email from Andrew Porter yesterday. He said he was sorry he had upset cattitude, and if he'd stopped there it might have been all right. No. He said he hadn't had the chance to "explain fully" before Cattitude hung up on him. For values of "explain fully" that consist, not of "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have accused you of being paranoid and tried to pressure you," or even "I'm sorry I upset you," but of "Why did redbird have her gall bladder removed?" I see neither an explanation nor an apology in there.

Then he went on about some old medical problems he'd had; I don't know whether that was somehow supposed to excuse rudeness, or just bid for sympathy. *sigh*

That's not an apology

I got email from Andrew Porter yesterday. He said he was sorry he had upset cattitude, and if he'd stopped there it might have been all right. No. He said he hadn't had the chance to "explain fully" before Cattitude hung up on him. For values of "explain fully" that consist, not of "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have accused you of being paranoid and tried to pressure you," or even "I'm sorry I upset you," but of "Why did redbird have her gall bladder removed?" I see neither an explanation nor an apology in there.

Then he went on about some old medical problems he'd had; I don't know whether that was somehow supposed to excuse rudeness, or just bid for sympathy. *sigh*

Spring, and gall bladder

I slept all the way through last night. (Yes, "through" is until 6:56, that being when cattitude got up—but while he tells me that I said "dishwasher" when he got up briefly in the middle of the night, I don't remember doing so.)

This morning, I headed out with Cattitude again. But instead of turning around after about a block, I walked with him as far as our usual park exit at Isham Street. He headed off to work, and I turned right, and sat on a bench for a little while. Got up, walked as far as the little garden with the lilac bush, and looked at the flowers there before sitting near the lilac and watching someone exercise. The paulownia tree in the wall has started to bloom, which led me to comment that I'd have hated missing spring without even going away. (Missing a week because I'm out of town is bad enough; missing it while home would have been worse.) There are two impressive purple tulips in that little garden, and I say that as someone who is not generally a tulip fan. The lilac is still blooming, though I decided not to risk leaning over to smell it. (All the easily reachable flowering bits have been cut off by selfish people in past years.) The really dangerous temptation will be in a couple of days, when the lilies of the valley open all the way: to smell those I'd have to practically lie prone on the path, which would probably be a bad idea now, and which would definitely be a bad idea while walking alone. From there, I looped along next to the ball fields (the path Cattitude and I call the "high road," between baseball fields and dog run), sat on another bench for a little bit, then down to the water briefly and home. Probably about a third of a mile total. There are still lots of violets, and periwinkle, and the dandelions are looking very good right now.

Spring, and gall bladder

I slept all the way through last night. (Yes, "through" is until 6:56, that being when cattitude got up—but while he tells me that I said "dishwasher" when he got up briefly in the middle of the night, I don't remember doing so.)

This morning, I headed out with Cattitude again. But instead of turning around after about a block, I walked with him as far as our usual park exit at Isham Street. He headed off to work, and I turned right, and sat on a bench for a little while. Got up, walked as far as the little garden with the lilac bush, and looked at the flowers there before sitting near the lilac and watching someone exercise. The paulownia tree in the wall has started to bloom, which led me to comment that I'd have hated missing spring without even going away. (Missing a week because I'm out of town is bad enough; missing it while home would have been worse.) There are two impressive purple tulips in that little garden, and I say that as someone who is not generally a tulip fan. The lilac is still blooming, though I decided not to risk leaning over to smell it. (All the easily reachable flowering bits have been cut off by selfish people in past years.) The really dangerous temptation will be in a couple of days, when the lilies of the valley open all the way: to smell those I'd have to practically lie prone on the path, which would probably be a bad idea now, and which would definitely be a bad idea while walking alone. From there, I looped along next to the ball fields (the path Cattitude and I call the "high road," between baseball fields and dog run), sat on another bench for a little bit, then down to the water briefly and home. Probably about a third of a mile total. There are still lots of violets, and periwinkle, and the dandelions are looking very good right now.

On an unrelated subject

The platypus genome has been sequenced.

On an unrelated subject

The platypus genome has been sequenced.