Addition to the list of things my cat has vomited on:

Inside of the windowsill in my bedroom

She is barfing still, but barfing less, which seems like a step in the right direction. I guess the meds are working. The vet will tell me more on Thursday, I hope.

I also called my gyno, since I realized it had been a while since I had gone in for a checkup (for those gentlemen who may not know, us ladies have to get the interior parts of our girly areas prodded and scraped once a year. It's actually fairly unpleasant. Given the choice I'd take a yearly prostate exam and ball-kneading session). The receptionist was all "Oh my, you haven't been in for almost two years!" I said, "Yeah, I was wondering about that. Shouldn't I have gotten a postcard or something?" she said, all crabby, "Yes, but you see, you need to call to make an appointment! And after two years, we stop sending out reminders." (I don't think I even got a card the last time they sent me a reminder (in 2002), which may mean someone else in the house acccidentally tossed it or something. Yet another good thing about living alone.) I wasn't criticizing her at all, and in fact was blaming myself for not thinking to call earlier, so there was no reason for her defensiveness. But I have a hard time arguing with doctors or their minions, so I just dropped it. Anyway, my appointment is next week.

I have this Friday off of work. I'm trying to figure out if I should stay here and try to reconnect with my friends (I haven't seen anyone since well before I left for my vacation last week) or go to Brooklyn to hang out with the sister. I just saw them for an entire week, though, and much of that time was spent listening to people telling her their birthing stories. I am very happy for her, and being an aunt will be completely wonderful, but I also can't help but do the twinnish comparing thing. We're both 30, almost 31. She's married to a great guy, owns her apartment, and is pregnant. I'm essentially single, renting a tiny place, and if I was pregnant it would have to have happened through some supernatural process. On good days I don't feel old, but on bad days ... Starting over is a lot of work. But I'm trying to be kind to myself. That's the best anyone can do.