What does the little black kitty cat have to do with tales of woe, you may wonder. Click on the title of this post, and then run the pointer over the kitty's chest. It purrs!
This in itself does not contain woe. The woeful thing is that in my new apartment, which adds another half an hour to my commute, I will not be able to have the quinessence of gothliness for girls. The little black kitty cat. Feh. Not that I can't have pets. I'm sure I could have a tiger if I kept it well behaved. I'll just have less time now. No little yappy dogs for me.
That's right. I have an apartment all to myself. I haven't moved in yet, but it's mine.
And I'm still sick. I think that's the biggest tale of woe...
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