The wind-down ritual has begun.

In the last interim, I took the opportunity to change into my jammies, and run downstairs to retrieve the Diet Coke and the Tylenol PM. Well, I retrieved all that after I fed the cats, since Kemper was standing in the doorway of the kitchen with an expectant look on his face. "Hey you! Yeah, you! Lady that isn't Mom! You've got opposable thumbs! Could you please please please put some Science Diet kibble in my bowl? Mom seems to be ignoring the psychic messages I'm sending her way...."

Yes, even in Zappagirl's house, I'm a slave to the kitties.

Of course, when I wandered into the guest bedroom to change into my pajamas, I made the foolish mistake of looking at the bed. So inviting. So warm. So soft. So comfy.

One more post. And then I'm off to beddy-bye.

Kemper is now frantically meowing in the hallway, telling us it's long past our bedtimes. Soon, baby. Soon.