Yuck. My mother keeps our house stupidly cold. I'm wearing my flannel pyjamas and I just can't seem to get warm.

Yesterday was a pretty neat day; I went to Barrie with Mike and we did lots of hanging out at Chapters and Costco and Toys'r'Us. I didn't buy much--a book on 'portraits of the artist in Canadian literature' that was on for $0.99 and a couple of postcards--but it was still good fun, and I got to go to Mike's photoshop class at the college. It was fun but it made me frustrated with university; sometimes I feel as though I'd much rather being something practical as opposed to something theoretical.

I did get to play with the Mac G4s and on the whole I think I'm more comfortable with my PC, as the Macs don't really do anything for me. They have really stupid mice, as well. Mike just bought one of the new PowerBooks, though, so after I'm done playing with that maybe my opinion will change.

I was thinking about maybe buying a new computer (I've had a lot of headaches with Hal this past year) but then I remembered that if I go to teacher's college at Nipissing I have to lease one of the dreaded laptops, which means there isn't much point in buying a new computer to use for a year, then not use the year after that and go back to once my edumacation is complete. It works out well, though, because that way I should be working as a teacher and able to afford pretty toys like new PCs.

I'm really happy for (and proud of) Al. It really couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

I lost another chess game today. I have yet to actually win one, and I've been playing since I was about twelve. Maybe it's just not meant to happen.

The Squidge told me a story the other day about Kinsey, our old big fat smelly cat. My parents had her put down about two weeks ago, because she was old and sick and she'd stopped taking care of herself.

Anyhow, my dad was the one who had to take her to the vet, and first they had to get her into the cat carrier, which, as a rule, is not something cats particularly enjoy. She wasn't happy about it, but once she got in, she suddenly stopped fighting and relaxed, and started purring. When she got to the vet's, she wasn't even scared, she just kept purring and being happy that people (the vet and her assistants) were paying attention to her and loving her.

When the vet tried to find a vein to inject the poison into, she couldn't; apparently Kinsey's circulation had gotten so bad that she likely would have been paralyzed within a week. The end result of that was that they had to inject her in the chest. She was still purring the whole time, just happy that people were there. The first injection wasn't enough for my poor twenty pound tortoiseshell, and when the vet told my dad that she'd have to do it again, he said, "I'm sorry, but I can't watch you do that again" and left.

I don't know why I wanted to write about that, but I've been thinking about it off and on for the last four or five days and everytime that I do, it brings tears to my eyes. I don't know why it hurts more to think of her being so happy in the last few minutes of her life, but it does.

Poor old thing. She's gone where all good cats go.

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