Thus far I've made it through one really old episode of Buffy and the first 30 minutes of Cool Hand Luke, a movie I've seen more times than I can count. Then Molly called. Her cat, Bear, is in the pet hospital with a kidney infection. We talked for awhile about high school, how much better we are than everyone else from high school, and ended the phone call with a pact. If, by the random age of 34, neither of us is married, we're getting hitched. Molly always said we'd have beautiful children, and I can't help but agree.

Speaking of pets (Bear, not Molly), I didn't realize how quickly dogs can slip into old age and bad health. Bailey, now 13, is making that inevitable, unspeakable descent. In a way I'm glad I'm home to be here during her last few days. However, part of me wishes I didn't have to watch her suffer. Her throat cancer has grown a lot since Christmas. Oh God why am I talking about this? I still have several movies and about 500 more chocolate cookies (courtesy of Molly's dad) to finish. Thus far my efforts to save up money and get in gear for Los Angeles have been lost to Sarah Michelle Gellar and snacking.