My Twenty-Something Quasi-Soap

We have a cat. I've mentioned the cat here and there over the years. He's still here, 12 years old, and fatter than ever. Ah yes, the old Fuzz Bucket. He only gets called by his real name when he's in serious trouble, just like a little kid. Otherwise, he's Fuzz Bucket, Kitty, Stupid Cat, or Dude (as in, "Dude, seriously! You've already had your dinner. Stop bugging me!"). And just like a little kid, he has peed or thrown up on a seemingly infinite number of surfaces and objects, yet, he's still alive and he's still here. He's like the bratty little brother I never wanted. Fuzz Bucket primarily lives in my room, which is actually my sister's old room. None of that matters to the cat: it's his room. Hence, he must have 24 hour access in and out of my room. Failure to provide unlimited access to the room will result in being awoken at 3am by endless pawing and meowing at the door until His Royal Highness has been allowed to enter. Fuzz B

And yet, I say this while it's currently 57 degrees and raining outside. I'm in my bed, in pants and my beloved Rutgers hoodie, under a comforter, while the cat has just settled in on his side of the bed next to a pile of clean laundry. But being as that we have already celebrated Memorial Day Weekend, and I am no longer a victim of the New Jersey public school system, it is now summer for all intents and purposes. Hooray!! So the seasons are a changin'. My allergies have eased up a bit. The days are longer and the nights are warmer. I already have a tan and I haven't set foot on the Shore (cringe). Bridges are slowly mending, status quos (stati quo? statuses quoi? whatever) have upgraded quite nicely, and the cd's keep spinning in my Ramenmobile. The Ramenmobile that failed inspection a few weeks ago, resulting in me dropping over $400 for new tires, balancing, and alignment (thank god for Visa). But the cd player keeps chugging along! One of the things I have real