
I forgot to turn down the burner and messed up the quinoa. I had to throw on a second batch to recover and it wasn’t great.
Patches is totally judging my culinary skills, or lack there of.

I forgot to turn down the burner and messed up the quinoa. I had to throw on a second batch to recover and it wasn’t great.
Patches is totally judging my culinary skills, or lack there of.
Patches on desk patrol.

Ms Patches is pleased that the Bruins followed Thursday’s nasty loss with a win today. She’s breathing a sigh of hockey relief.

Patches rings in the weekend the way she rings in any old day: Lazily.

The Mandalorian has Baby Yoda. I have Baby Patches. She doesn’t use The Force. She just head butts my hand when she wants me to pet her.


Patches is a big fan of Jen’s cool headphone stand.

My desk is cluttered. Patches has less room to spread out. She looks annoyed yet she’s purring like a chainsaw.
So she’s mad, but she’s happy about it’s. Similar to 13 year old Harry Potter, yes?

It’s almost midnight. I’m still up. I’ve been thinking about tomorrow’s appointment. I’m still not freaking out. Will I tomorrow? Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows.
Maybe I’m okay with this? It’s a Zoom appointment so it’s not a Covid risk. Maybe that’s why I’m sort of relaxed. Who knows.
Patches is hanging out with me right now. Maybe that’s why I’m okay. Who knows.


Patches heard me talking about doing the RPM Challenge and she laughed at me. If that how it’s gonna be, let’s see who fills your food bowl.*
*It will be me. She can abuse me all day, I’m still going to take care of her. The little jerk.
I don’t think she likes it when I use the second desk in the office. She wants the desk, and Jen, to herself.
