"It's just a year," I said out loud to myself this morning, as I drove the farm roads through the rain to the vet. It doesn't have any fundamental difference than the one that just ended in terms of ominous energy or ill-intent. It's just a year, and I can project on it what I want. Still, I can't shake the feeling of doom and gloom. I'm waiting in the parking lot now, knowing that this might be one of those moments that has a "before" and "after." Cats get old like people. Unlike people, when they get sick, there are choices. I'm hoping this year can spare me any hard choices like that a little bit longer. Anyway, there's no sense getting upset about things that aren't for sure yet.

Still no appetite today, but at least I slept through the night without puking. I really wonder how long this will keep up. I want to go running today, and I feel mostly okay, I just can't eat. I don't really know what to do about it. At least I have saltines. 

Gray, gray, gray. I wish I could write something bright and good here, something that would create a little bubble of happiness. Hey, I'm still here, right?