she tucks up her skirts to the basement to creep

Lunchtime reading? This guy's a hoot. Check out his sex advice to lonely Jews ...

After giving up the "nice place" for the "place with everything," where in-unit W/D and pet-friendly were like simultaneous jackpots on a slot machine, it looks more and more like it'll continue to just be me.

My pets, this year, have made me ultra-conscious of this thing called Getting Old. It's not that they're old - they're actually relatively young, except for the cat, who is, yes, ancient. B's still shaking off puppyhood; Djali is a bouncy, healthy five; Shu is going to live forever anyway (this is my notion of turtles). I honestly have no idea what the life span of a duck is. Or a chicken.

It was the cat who first made me think, maybe I don't have the emotional stamina to be a solo pet owner. Her last doc visit was dreadful - I cried in front of a vet I never even met before, because she did look beyond bad and his diagnoses seemed so dire. And there was Coco two years ago. He was mine and my brother's, and prior to him we had another dog that my dad really, really loved. But Bean is the dog of my mom's life, the apple of her eye. I start thinking these morbid thoughts, like how awful are things going to be when there's no more Bean? And he's only three!

I'm taking Shu, because 1) they don't want him at home and 2) he's going to live forever, right? But as for my big plans to get a cat (as mine is too old to transplant) or a dog (as my mom would die if I took Bean), they are on hold. And this is why I feel old. Regular me, cat lover since I was small enough to fit under my neighbor's car to coax her midget Persians out to play, would jump at the chance to have my very own indoor kitty, or even puppy. The other day my friend asked me if I'd like a puppy - some monstrously-sized breed, which I prefer to purse-sized yappers - and without blinking I said no. No, because I won't be home enough. No, because dogs are so expensive to care for. No, because someday it'll die.

... But I can handle other people's pets, just like I make a living taking care of other people's kids. I met my friend's cat Cheddar this afternoon. (I'm on feeding detail till she and her boyfriend get back from Portland.) Her building is a stone's throw (if that) from mine, on the same property. Sometime this week I'm going to have to take a long walk around the area, because I haven't done that yet. The final walk-through is coming up, and so is ... the rest. I will not have furniture for a good long time, but it's all good. I just decided not to buy a used table for $300, and I feel pretty good about that. Who needs a table when you have lap?