But now I am angry and I don't like being angry on a Monday, so the hell with the rest of the headline roundup.
Instead I will give you this.
This is Sancho. It may look like he is contemplating a future in which Rick Santorum, or someone like him is leading the United States, but actually he is just really, really freaked out because it is raining. What he's afraid of is thunder. He associates thunder with rain, and even though it doesn't thunder every time it rains, there is the possibility that it might thunder and the thing to do when you are afraid that it might thunder is sit on the landing at the top of the stairs and hold yourself in a very, very tense position until it stops raining.
He will not enter the bedrooms to take comfort in our company because of a terrible incident from his puppyhood in which Brigid somehow boosted him--he weighed fifty pounds-- into the top bunk of her bed. Naturally, she couldn't get him down again. It bears mentioning that she tried this experiment the day after I bought new Shabby Chic duvet covers for the beds.
We dragged the mattress off the lower bunk onto the floor and piled it with pillows and quilts to serve as a cushion and coaxed and pleaded and tried to lift him out of the upper bunk, but he seemed to have welded his body to the mattress. We literally could not budge him. Then Jon arrived, and Sancho, realizing that Jon was the strongest person in the house, made an unexpected flying leap out of the bed into Jon's arms, knocking Jon onto his ass on the mattress-cushion pile. The impact shook the house to its foundation. That was six years ago. Sancho never entered a bedroom again.
Speaking of shaking the house to its foundation, we had a 3.1 magnitude earthquake last night, around 11:00pm-ish. Did you feel it C'ville people? I heard a deep rumble and felt a mild tremor that lasted for about 10 seconds. That's how many earthquakes since August?