I had to kill a mouse this morning before leaving for work; our young male cat catches things outside and brings them inside, and must have forgotten to deal with this one.  It was a young, small mouse, and it was really fast; I did my best to try to trap him such that I could grab his tail and remove him while still alive, but after almost losing him several times I just had to end it quickly to prevent him from entering the bowels of the house.  I am still saddened by this hours later, and I wonder why.  We kill insects and plants daily, sometimes without knowing it; this doesn’t trouble me, but killing a mammal does?  We have the largest cattle rendering industry in the world and yet I am bothered by killing a mouse.  What a screwy society.

George Carlin died today.  This is unrelated to the above discussion, I assure you.

I have reached an epiphany regarding weight loss:  I think it’s truly time to start losing weight when the distance of your belly from your waist exceeds the length of your junk.  (Applicable to men only, of course — I have no idea what the corresponding metric would be for women.)

Despite the above ruminations, I am not depressed.  Just introspective.