Praise be

Apparently the air conditioner was out of Freon. Now it's cool, nay, nearly chilly in my apartment, and I'm choosing not to interpret the slight trickle of water from the upstairs unit as a foreboding sign.

Now I just need to retrieve Simon and all will be well. I suspect this separation has been more difficult for me than for Mr. Kissyface. His initial reaction to being left in the Big House was heartbreaking (imagine doleful meowing from a cat who seldom meows), but then he settled into a lovely vacation involving cool air, plush carpet and doting grandparents. I, on the other hand, have come home to an empty house. Sigh.

What makes matters worse is just the other day I returned from work to find a reminder of his kittenhood:

His favorite plaything, a drawstring from an old pair of scrub pants, was lying on the living room floor. This string had been in its customary place in the bedroom, which means little Simon had dragged it down the stairs. Like a security blanket. He used to drag it around with him all over the place when he was a kitten, too. *weeps inwardly*

Yes, I do realize I sound like a pathetic wretch, but you'd have attachment issues too if you had this little ray of sunshine in your life: