It wasn’t shaping up to be super: sleepy students, sick students, scheduling issues, score report issues… Death by a thousand paper cuts.

The dread that looms when the Seahawks have a big game. (My father had a heart attack watching them in 1983. He still gets carried away, but he doesn’t smoke anymore, and he’s wired with a pacemaker. I still get nervous.)

The sad cloud that’s a cat who’s been sick with a respiratory infection for a week and seems to be on a hunger strike.

20140203-105151.jpg She hides under buffet on the cable box, emerging only to sniff at cat food and slink away. At first, she was oozing phlegm like the creature from Alien. Then she started breathing like Darth Vader. Then she stopped eating. We changed her antibiotics mid-week, but the vet said not to give her the new one until she started eating… So she’s sniffly and starving. I take a slight variation on the surface of the (really untouched) wet food as evidence that she’s “eating” and slip her a dose of antibiotic on my way out the door. She’s foaming at the mouth. Sigh.

Somehow the schedule falls into place, and the students all have those moments where I see progress, I see the maturity that’s going to make it possible for them to achieve their goals.

At the end of the day, the skies open, and it starts to rain, and for once, I’m excited. I’m NOT on my bike, and we need the rain.

Trader Joe’s is out of pizza dough, but after a very long wait, made longer because I can’t visit any social media or news outlets for fear of game spoilers, pizza dough is found in the latest shipment they’re unloading. The check out guy asks me if I’m making spinach pizza. Yes, I am. And Brussels sprout-pancetta pizza.

Home is quiet. Too quiet. No little kitty faces greet me at the door. No one emerges to meow about dinner. I put away groceries and arm myself with the laser pointer for a search party. No one is under the buffet. I think about the last days of archy, and I’m sad but resigned when I see our little tabby girl curled up on the sofa. She’s not as oozy as she’s been. Larry materializes out of nowhere. Someone has given us a plate of cookies.

Finally, the domestic partner returns from his day, human dinner is assembled, and kitty dinner is devoured. Wet food, dry food, water!

We watch a football game, and I get that some people might think blowouts are boring, but I’m thankful that the Seahawks never give my father a moment of fear.

Good pizza, good red wine from Washington state (thanks, Quilceda Creek), good cookies (thanks, new neighbors), kitty in good (well, improving) health (thanks, doxycycline).

A good day off the bike.