This afternoon Olof watched Groundhog Day with the kids, in what has become a yearly tradition for them. I like the movie fine, but I don’t love it beyond reason the way some people seem to, so I stayed in the office and listened to George Strait on Spotify. There’s nothing like good country music.

We were up early this morning to head out to the church for the “children’s service” that Petra was taking part in as part of an after-school group she attends. Church isn’t really my thing, but the service was short and the kids were cute, so it was all right. Getting out of bed at nine on a Sunday morning was not all right, however, so I made sure to take a long nap when we came home.

In the middle of my lie-down, Tage came in to tell me that Gwen (the cat) was puking “like, every ten seconds”. Yay. I got up and checked out the situation, and she seemed mostly okay. Apparently she’d eaten part of a rubber spiderweb toy. She got at least two biggish pieces out of her system, which is good, but I worry that there’s more in there. She’s eating and drinking and seems her normal self, but she’s still throwing up now and then as well. I guess a call to the vet is in order tomorrow. Stupid cat.

You know what else is stupid? Our having learned in typing class that two spaces between sentences was the way to go. Not so, as it turns out. For more than twenty-five years I’ve been spacing twice after every sentence, and it’s so ingrained in my fingers that I can hardly help myself. I decided a couple of years ago just to go with it, and hadn’t thought much about until I started seriously writing my thesis. Now I’m determined to break the habit, and it’s just about as much fun (and easy) as breaking habits tends to be.