Baseball Cat

Patches isn’t as interested in baseball as she is hockey, but I’m keeping her up to date on the Red Sox score. 4-2 in the bottom of the sixth.

It’s Not Mine

It’s not my side of the bed. It’s hers.

Pumping gas in a station in central NH where apparently Covid doesn’t exist. We are the only people with masks.

If you, like me, ever wondered what the exhaust vents for a tankless water heater looked like then this is the post for you.

You’re welcome. I’m always happy to help.

This doesn’t work as well at night when my windows are super dirty.

Desk cat, 2021 edition. Two views.

I don’t know what’s bringing this on, but she’s come to visit every morning this week.

The burgers are cooking. Harry is on standby to start the watch party. I’m signed out of work for the night.

It’s time for the season one finale of Marvel’s What If?

After this I’ll have to start Midnight Mass or Squid Game to hold me over until the Hawkeye show comes out.

Patches is psyched.

Pointless. So pointless.

Patches is staying up with me and we are both hanging on every pitch.

Three outs to go.