I just read a news article in the local paper that referred to Grampy's, a convenience store that's been a 7-11 for several years now. The long-time residents still call it Grampy's, though, since 7-11 isn't very specific.

The house is great. I have no complaints so far. Well, maybe the sound on the lofty second floor is a little echo-y; I'll have to devise a way to dampen that. I have still to unpack all of my studio stuff and knick-knacks, but everything else is pretty much set up. Last night I called my neighbor friend so she could come over and learn how to feed the cats (in case I am suddenly called away by my laboring sister), and we decided to eat dinner together. I was in the middle of making some previously-frozen salmon steaks and pasta with pesto, and she brought over a salad and a bottle of red wine. It was fun times.

My cats have been driving me crazy. There's no easy way to keep them from my bedroom loft, and even if I could, I'd be able to hear them meowing. Junebug especially is insistent that 4:30 a.m. is time for breakfast, and it takes multiple shoves off the bed to get her to leave me alone for another half hour, when the routine repeats. I can't ever give in, of course, because I'd be teaching them how to get me out of bed. I'm pretty frickin' tired. Maybe I need one of those magical automatic feeder machines! But then maybe one cat would discover the food and eat it all before the other one was aware of what happened. Hmm...