This butcher too was married, but she didn't mind that

One of the best things you can hear from a vet is "Frankly, I'm underwhelmed." The short version: it is a good thing we took Hestia in this afternoon, because the small angry circle of furless skin we had noticed behind her shoulder on Friday was indeed infected and will benefit from the antibiotic shot the vet gave her, but it looks otherwise like a small undramatic wound which should heal in a couple of weeks at the outside. We have no idea how she got it. She does not customarily fight with her brother to the point of puncturing, but she does frequently try to wriggle inside of cabinets and other doors she shouldn't open and may have snagged. The shot seems to have helped, since she is now letting me touch her shoulder where previously she would permit only spatch to inspect the area. The part where she now has a ring of shaved fur around the wound itself is furiously offensive and she has been grooming as much of her back as she can reach to make up for it since we got home.

The taxi driver on the way home had the radio tuned to Ann Coulter, which exposed us to the unforgettable phrase "hysterical women and eunuch beta males" but had otherwise nothing to recommend the experience.

In the category of things I much prefer to listen to, I had occasion today to link to articles on both Harry Von Tilzer's "I Love, I Love, I Love My Wife—But Oh! You Kid!" and Ma Rainey's "Prove It on Me Blues."I had no idea there was an unofficial theme song of the New York Stock Exchange.