I blame it on the football.

The other day I found myself flipping through a rack of sweaters at the mall. I stopped at one that was an arresting shade of red and felt the fabric. Warm, thick, wool. It felt luscious. I picked it up, intending to head towards the dressing room. I made it no more than two steps when I remembered it was still over 100 degress outside. The sweater went right back on the rack.

I did it again last night, surfing NFL.com I picked out a cute new Raiders hoodie I had to have. Before clicking 'buy now' I looked out the window. Yep, still 100 degrees. I closed to NFL.com window.

I do this every year. Every year about this time I get sick of sun dresses & flip flops. But I love sun dresses and flip flops! Why do I yearn to bury them in my closet?

It's all the TV's fault. I see sweeping scenes of midwestern campuses as the announcer talks about the promise of fall in the air. I worry about if a Southern quarterback will be able to make it through an early December game right outside the beltway. I wonder how it is that every year, without fail, the Raiders get scheduled for a late December game in the Northeast.

So even though I was outside this morning cleaning the pool in my bathing suit, once I'm inside it's 80 degrees, and that is fall weather.

Your daily pussy.

Another quiet day here.

I have never met felines who are more curious about water. Everytime I go in the bathroom at least one of them follows me in. Found this one in the shower the other day, then the sink.

Your daily pussy.

Things are quiet around here.

Wake up.

Scoop cat litter.

Nap.

Feed cats.

Nap.

Swim.

Eat.

Sleep.

Your daily pussy.

I have been housesitting since Sunday and this is the first time this cat has come out of hiding.

He's fat.