I just slogged home from dance class, so busted that I couldn’t believe I had to mount two flights of stairs to my bachelor’s pad, let alone take a shower, brush my teeth–you know, TAKE CARE OF BUSINESS. When I walked in, permakitten Grace was crouched on my dresser, all owl-eyed, staring at a mouse sitting pretty in the middle of my rug. I’ve trained her to stop buddy-buddying with mice–she used to be like, MA! FINALLY YOU FOUND ME A FRIEND!–but she still can’t bring herself to hurt them. So this picture is of the two of us not killing the mouse–me because I’m too tired, she because HOW COULD I POSSIBLY THINK SHE WAS A KILLAH. (And, yes, Grace has a Boston accent. Obviously.)
