Perforation Problems

Michael picks up a catalogue from the stack of mail on the kitchen counter and starts laughing. He turns to show it to me. "I know," I grumble, stepping back to avoid the popping oil from the chicken I'm sauteeing maybe a little too overzealously. It's the fourth or fifth piece of mail we've gotten from Chevy since I bought my car in October. That would be fine, except they're all addressed to Michael, DESPITE the fact that it's MY car, MY name is the first on the lease, and I'M the one paying for it with MY money. Micheal finds it hilarious because he knows it gets my feminist goat (where did that expression come from??) Such a small thing to get irritated about, but seriously. It's like the time I posted a picture from one of our vacations, and a (male) friend commented, "Damn. Making me wish I had married Michael." Excuse me. We go on vacations because of my salary. Not that Michael couldn't manage to go on vacations on his...

Write 7 minutes about yourself from your pet’s perspective (from 10 Writing Warm-Up Exercises ) Morning sun, comfy couch. Stretching, rolling on my back.  Footsteps down the hall—no need to get up yet. Wait for breakfast.  Water running, in that room I avoid. Bad room, don't trust it. If you get caught in there, then wet water in your fur, trapped behind glass, can't get out, water dripping, suds all over, no good, no good. Avoid.  But no worries right now. Can't make me go in there. Safe out here. Almost breakfast time.  She comes out, my person. Makes noises I ignore, but I see her walking towards my dish, so I stretch one more time, ease off the couch. Wag my tail to encourage her to keep this up. Positive reinforcement.  She's singing the morning song, the breakfast song. I sit and throw up my paw because she always makes me do that. Don't know why, but it gets me food, so I'll do it.  Food in my bowl! But first she squishes m...