Eleven
I have a magical life. Every morning, I don’t get out of bed until I’ve played Wordle (today was game number 703 for me) and Connections and sent it to various people, including a thread with my dad and aunt. That thread sometimes merely consists of each of our results; other times, it’s a pun (Dad), or a dry and witty comment (Aunt Kate); and sometimes, it’s a sweeter catch-up on life. I treasure it all. Meanwhile, the animals know I’ve stirred and while Ollie the Dog wants to pretend we’re going back to sleep, Arty the Very Large Cat has hopped up on my bathroom vanity and stares at me around the doorway until I get up and turn on his faucet. (Aspen, the Other Large Cat Whom Some Might Say Is More Round Than Large, is nowhere to be seen, as she is probably sitting on a heater vent somewhere.) If Joby’s here, she’ll poke her head in and ask if she can get me coffee. (The answer is yes. Always yes.) And we probably have more chatting to do since it’s been about ten hours since we l...