The Great Catsby

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.

"Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone," he told me, "just remember that all the people on School House Road haven't had the advantages that you've had."

I may well have had advantages but such is the nature of things that I do not remember them. Rather I am on my own in a rather satisfying way, catching as catch can, neither burdened with shiny collars and engraved medallions nor forced to the indignities of, ugh, a litter box.

Having nothing to prove, and apparently some prospects for continued independence here on the mid-reaches of Hot Springs Road, just above East Valley Road but not quite to the Mountain Drive heights, I am thinking Thoreau for the time being. Walden Pond, it isn't, but there is, as I have said, potential. I had even thought to send forth announcements of my change in venue, but hearing of the experiences of ENK with that sort of thing, I opt now to merely let things take their course. Where shall I sleep? Where shall I contemplate? Where shall I nap? And what over all shall it be my thing to do? Ah.

We shall see.