I was sick pretty much all week last week (the flu, I suspect) so nothing got done. Here's a short little chapter to tide you over until I can get my life back in order. Thanks for being patient!

The wind had been howling all day, and it didn't die down after dark. It had taken me pretty much all day to figure out that the damn noise the wind was making was what was making me so twitchy. I'd been "off" since right after I woke up, but attributed it to the lack of sleep caused by my upstairs neighbors. I was really considering leaving a passive aggressive sticky note on their door congratulating them on their new pet elephant.

In any case, I was grumpy. I'd spent the day actively avoiding people as much as possible. I didn't feel like inflicting myself on anyone unnecessarily. In some cases it was inevitable-there was a meeting with Annie about another upcoming press release-but she seemed to understand that I wasn't in the mood to chit chat. It was over fairly quickly.

Finally, after puttering around my apartment for a couple of hours doing menial household work (God I hate folding laundry. It's just so irritating. Washing, drying-fine. But folding? Bah.) and the city started quieting down somewhat, at least for D.C., I realized it was the wind.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered. I thought back through my day, realizing that the low-pitched howling and the whistling and groaning gusts had been present all day.

It was too much like Mars. Where I was almost killed by a windstorm.

I harrumphed. It was ridiculous and dumb, but after everything the sound of the wind tearing around outside put me on edge. Logically, I knew that if I stepped outside or opened a window the worst I was get was an interesting hairdo. It was just a cold(er) front moving in. Definitely not certain death. But after so long with the wind as a threat, I couldn't relax.

I hunted the remote out from between the couch cushions and clicked the tv on. I'd left it on the news this morning, but I didn't want to watch that. I flipped through the channels quickly, as soon as I could tell what show was on I clicked the next button. I wasn't really looking for anything. Just background noise. There was a documentary about the Amazon River on one channel, and I left it on that. The slow, modulated, British-accented voice talking about piranhas was oddly soothing.

I woke up in a cold sweat, breathless, from a dream about the Martian winds tearing apart the Hab. And me without my space suit. I was still on the couch, the tv still on, only now it was some program with lions. I sat up and rubbed at my face. The numbers on my watch blinked two a.m. at me. Awesome. It was cold, too. I didn't mind it cool when I was sleeping, but that was usually beneath a comforter and sheets in my bed, not in a t-shirt and sweatpants on the couch.

At the same time, I didn't feel like moving. It's not like I'd be getting any more sleep tonight anyway, not with the wind still howling outside. My pulse was still throbbing from the dream.

The cat almost gave me a heart attack when he jumped onto my legs.

"Holy-" I startled, almost dislodging him. "For fucks sake, Tom, you can't just go around scaring people like that. Mindy would never forgive me if I accidentally kicked you across the room."

Major Tom meowed at me, unimpressed, and crawled his way up my legs to my lap.

"Watch the paws," I told him, "we're not that close yet." He curled up, purring contentedly as I stroked his back. A couple of baths, some flea treatment, and loads of brushing had revealed him to be a reasonably fluffy charcoal grey. I could feel my heartbeat slowing down as he continued to purr. The added warmth didn't hurt either-I swear, he's like a miniature heater. It's like he soaks up the sun all day and radiates it.

"How do you feel about lions?" I asked him. He opened one eye to a slit and mrrowed at me. "Okay then."

I woke up to someone sanding my face with fine grit sandpaper. Oh, wait. That was just Major Tom licking my face.

"Gah," I said, trying to push him off my chest. "Cut it out, Tom."

"Meow."

"Yeah, whatever." He wanted his wet food. The smell of it made me want to barf, but he didn't seem to mind. As long as he didn't try to lick me after eating it. Then I really would throw up.

It was six-thirty, but that was honestly longer than I had expected to sleep, so it was what it was. The mound of purring cat that had slept on me all night had probably contributed to the extra hours. Besides being a portable furnace, he also doubled as a great white noise machine.

I got the cat his dang wet food. The flavor of the day was chicken and gravy, but I seriously questioned that designation. It didn't look or smell anything like chicken. Tom was gobbling it up like he hadn't eaten in days (which was not true at all) when my phone rang.

"Hello?" I answered it.

"Hey Mark, sorry about the early call. I just wanted to reach you before my morning meeting." It was Lewis.

"It's alright, I was up." Barely, but true enough. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing, really. I just hadn't talked to you this week and wanted to check in."

It was Monday. The week was young. I could read the subtext: Annie called me and said you were acting weird yesterday, so I wanted to make sure you were ok.

"It's been a pretty slow week. Haven't been getting a ton of sleep. I should probably apologize to Annie for being cranky yesterday." Message received, Commander. Stand by, pulling myself together in progress.

"You know, Beck could probably give you something for that." She was using her motherly voice.

"We've discussed it. But it's actually gotten a little better, recently." Mostly due to Major Tom curling up next to me at night. No way I was going to tell Lewis that kitty cuddles was curing my insomnia, though.

"Well, as long as you know we're here for you if you need us."

"Yeah, I know. And I appreciate it." More than I could say.

"All right. I'm at NASA, so I have to go. But I'll talk to you soon."

"Sounds good. Have fun with really long staff meetings."

"Hah," Lewis fake laughed. "Thanks." She hung up the phone.

I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter. The sky had just started to change from inky black to the color of Tom's fur, but it was quiet. The wind had dissipated.

"Well, Tom," I addressed my cat, "time to get busy."

He ignored me in favor of licking his chicken-and-gravy flavored paws.