Blathr Wayne Lorentz

I donʼt always know when Tina is skulking around the garden, but Annie always knows.

New from Scholastic! Itʼs Nancy Drew and the Mystery of the Hidden Cat!

Look for it in a bookmobile near you!

Itʼs O.K., Annie. I have a button to do that.

Annie tucks tighter than Thomas Daley in the men's 10 meter synchronized platform event.

I really should stop this tomfoolery. But I also want to find out if sheʼs dumb enough to get her head stuck in a peanut can.

Annie has decided that Iʼve done enough work for today, and I should turn my attention to smaller, furrier needs.

Annie has found a safe location from which to observe the Grand Unpacking of All the Things.

Annie is half in the bag this morning.

Annie reflects on her day.

Annie relaxing at the Aloft Hotel in San Antonio.

“Dude, there's a Smokey on your tail. Floor it!”

Annie surveys our room at the Best Western Plus Hotel in Fort Stockton, Texas before settling down to sleep on top of the refrigerator.

After a busy day surveying the packing of all of our things, Annie snoozes high atop the pile of stuff in our living room.

She canʼt read, but Annie sure digs those Nancy Drew books.

Iʼm tired. Annie is going to work for me today.

I wonder if a daisy smells the same to her as it does to me.

“If youʼd get me a computer of my own, I could finish your taxes a lot faster.”

“The boredom. I has it. Play with me.”

Annie is not impressed by my mad Pong skills.

“Does this sunlight make me look fat?”

“I see youʼre got enough toilet paper to last for the rest of the year. How about stocking up on kitty treats? The good stuff, none of this house-brand Safeway crap.”

Today Annie sat in the bathroom doorway and watched as I cleaned my toilet. So naturally, I felt obligated to clean the cat box next.

I think just got guilt-tripped by a cat.

Today I learned that Annie is in the market for a whole-home water treatment system. I guess I should clean her kitty bowls more often.

“Thank you for the box. Itʼs just what I wanted.”

Today I learned that when you see a vacuum cleaner making perfect clean lines through a patch of dirt in a television commercial, itʼs not actually dirt. Itʼs 20 ounces of freshly ground coffee.

I learned this by accidentally dumping 20 ounces of freshly ground coffee on the kitchen counter. And the floor. And the cat, who bolted out of there like a four-wheeler at the start of a cross-country mud race, spewing coffee everywhere.

Still, the vacuum works pretty good. And making perfect clean lines through the debris is very soothing.

I got a Christmas tree.

When we lived in apartments in Chicago and Houston and Seattle and elsewhere, we always had real trees. Then when we moved into the big house here, we always had fake trees. Counterintuitive. Now that weʼre in an apartment again, I went real once more.

Darcie sent a picture of the tree to her sister, and sheʼs convinced itʼs fake. Itʼs sad when people are so used to fake things they think the real thing is inferior. Iʼm guilty of that, too. Banana-flavored ice pops tastes way better than actual bananas.

Annie shows zero interest in the Christmas tree. While I appreciate the lack of mischief, she really is a poor cat.

Todayʼs coffee is Kitty Coffee from Populace Coffee in Bay City, Michigan. Of course, your coffee can be Doggie Coffee or whatever you want, since Populace will print whatever you want on the bag. Upload a photo, and add some text, and youʼre done.

The price is pretty reasonable, considering that itʼs a one-off printing. I think itʼs around $22, including shipping.

That said, even though the coffee is good, this is an operation to avoid. When I shop online, I use a different e-mail address with each merchant. Thatʼs how I know that Populace sold my e-mail address to spammers, and also sold my phone number to text message spammers trying to push coffee grinders on me. This is not how you win a repeat customer.

Sunday, interrupted.

About the only normal thing these days is the cat. She eats. She poops. She licks herself. All the normal things a cat should do. Sheʼs never been very bright, so she doesnʼt know anything is wrong. The last cat was very empathetic. He knew when something was wrong, and would comfort us. If he heard Darcie cry or yelp or swear, heʼd run to her side. Now she only has me. Itʼs not the same thing.

Happy cat, or dead bug? You decide.

Whenever I break out the wood grain wonder, Annie comes to join me.

She doesnʼt always set up camp in the cabinet, though.

Santa dropped off a present for the Annie and Henri today. Hopefully they donʼt figure out what it is.

I hurt my back this morning, so when I got home all I wanted to do is sit in the bed, watch TV, and eat a pizza. Now I have a furry little nurse to make sure Iʼm OK.

Watching the dog show on TV was really inspirational. I think my animals may have a chance.

Annie, for example, is a shoo-in for “Best in Slow.”

This is not a still frame from a video of Annie rolling over. This is just how she lays on the floor these days.

She really is the strangest thing on four paws.

“Happy Halloween!”

I have a California King bed, six pillows, and four inches of memory foam and I will never sleep as soundly as this cat on the fake wood floor.

The catʼs frolicking in my dirty socks. I guess laundry will just have to wait until tomorrow.

One of these cats is an inanimate object. The other is a brass statue.

The face you make when the fitted sheet swallows everything else in the dryer and turns into a giant laundry ball thatʼs toasty warm and dry on the outside and crusty wet on the inside.

At least thatʼs the face I make.

I should probably clean out my bathroom cabinet. Itʼs starting to attract vermin.

“Monorail Cat has reached the terminal station. All change for Roomba service to Tunaville, Darcieʼs Snugglebus to Leaky Sink Central, and Express Sprint service to Litter Box Town.”

I donʼt know if this is a tiny intervention, or if she wants one, too.

Annie is cute. Not smart. Just cute.

Itʼs not resting bitch face. Thatʼs actual bitch face. Happy birthday, Annie!

Sunlight. Moonlight. Whatever warms your belly.