Well, I didn't get outside again much. Really just to pet Zach. Did I even carry any kitten litterboxcontents to the trash? I don't think I did.
I did watch a lot of film fest contributions. My favorite is by (a bunch of folks headed by) someone named Mina Vladimir, My Mother Was An Airplane
. Wish there were a trailer I could link you to. It's a delight. Of a sort I can't explain to you easily here, or even, very well, at length.
Took Mann in to the kittens again. Didn't bring them out to the living room. Manny had his own adventure going, with a mouse he had corner under a chair in there all evening. I didn't think there was really anything there. Thought he was just fired up from the kitties. Shoulda known better. When they sit with that concentration focused so tightly, there's always a mouse. As I found out when I lifted the chair and he chased the mouse to the front door, grabbed it in his mouth, and carried it back to the bathroom. I shut him in there with it for a while, then joined him later---he'd not killed it. Was just playing, and resting, and playing, and resting.
Some comic shenanigans followed as he and I both tried to catch the little beady-eyed thing, me with a tupperware container and a file folder. Eventually I trapped it and carried it to the outsides. It wouldn't have been terribly upsetting to me if he'd killed it, but I don't want a hidden mouse carcass rotting in the place. We had one in the warehouse at Varney's once, and it was days of nasty stench until we found it. So foul. And yet so rodent. (Haw.)
So I did a little better today not knocking myself for, like, everything I can come up with, particularly what I wasn't doing, or hadn't done, or maybe wasn't gonna do. I wondered the other day whether this astonishingly regressive feeling wasn't the onset of the decline of age that is spoken of as mirroring childhood, like that progression of drawings of the baby crawling, toddling, the child walking, the adult upright, the slightly stooped, the increasingly stooped, and ---well, they leave off the doddering drooler in the olde folks's home, but we all see where it's going.
Speaking of posture, here's some Peanuts before bedtime:
Haha. That Charles Schulz was messed up, hunh?