That’s my daughter below, in a photo taken years ago. It’s a cardboard box, but to her it was a house. Her house. On the very day I taped the roof up, cut holes for windows and doors, and put it out in the yard, within minutes a neighbourhood cat came by, backed its butt almost against the wall of it, and sprayed. Not normal peeing, but spraying, tagging it like a graffiti artist, saying This is my house. It didn’t smell too bad, and it certainly didn’t bother my daughter. She loved that house!
To stretch the metaphor almost to breaking point, I’m hoping this site will make you feel warm and cozy as a cat or a three-year-old nestled in a cardboard box. But I’m warning you: sometimes it might feel like the cat just pissed on your leg.
This site has a list of my books, but mostly it exists so I can put up chapters from my autobiography, which is called:
Sorry I’m not More Interesting
Click on it from the menu and you’ll see posts are listed oldest to newest, because a story goes over better if it starts at the beginning. You’ll appreciate starting at the beginning if you’re new here, but if you’re coming back, Sorry if it’s a pain in the ass to scroll down to the bottom looking for the latest. And Sorry I’m Not More Interesting!