What smells like miso soup?

I do. Or I did. For much of the day. I managed to spill the entire thing all over my pants. So then I got to wear wet pants. That smelled like miso soup. And I managed to drop the soup at lunch in front of all of my coworkers, including the boss. Good thing I already got the job. Then I got into a debate about when it's appropriate to split the infinitive. I'm a big fan of split infinitives. Which means I have to be careful. But I also know that sometimes you just gotta bite the bullet and do it. So I did. And I'm not changing it unless the boss is also of the mindset that there's never a good reason to split the infinitive.

So, yes. This is my life. It's gotten much less exciting in the past few weeks. And I think I am officially a cat lady. I'm sure I was a cat lady before, but since I was living with Mr. Raisins, I think I wasn't officially a cat lady. Now that I'm all alone without my better half, I am one of those people who comes home to an empty apartment, eats a sad dinner comprised mostly of children's snack foods, a talks to my cats because, well, there's no one else to talk to. I mean, I don't talk to them a lot. Just a little. But I don't think this fact makes it any less sad.

So there's no one here who thinks that the occassional happy hour is a good idea. They also live alone, so I'm not quite sure what excitement they have going on after work. So, no beer for me since that would invovle either drinking alone at home or drinking alone at a bar. Either scenario seems sad to me.

Come visit. Please. I don't even care if you're some stranger who managed to stumble into this wellspring of insight and brilliance.