Purrs

-->right next to my right arm and the laptop; Mishka's evening spot.
I am flattered that she chooses my company:  she can get by for long periods of time happily alone.

This was a day full of errands, of returning after replacing the old gas cap to get my car approved, of finding the place to get the sticker for my license plate, of shopping for the ingredients for shabbos dinner.  Each thing was necessary; but I am left with the feeling that I accomplished nothing today.
"Not so," says Mishka, licking my hand; "You've been a good cat-mommy.  You've put out my favorite  food, and water, and toys.  You've sat here and let me snuggle up to a warm arm.  What more could you want?"

I think:  plenty.
Like, influence the ones I love for the good. 
(A voice comes immediately, saying:  not your job.)
Whaddya mean, not-my-job?  What IS my job, then?
(Love them; trust that they are "dreeing their ain weird". [=working out their own karma.])
But I want their lives to be easier!  I want them to be happy, content, fulfilled.
(Not your job.)
SAFE?
(You've given information.  "Safe" is now up to them.)
Oh, sh---.
(Yes.)
Sigh.

Wishes for a good shabbos for us all.  My beloved really did teach me to put all my concerns into the lap of the Ribbono shel Olam during those twenty-six hours.  I have all that's left of tonight, and tomorrow when I am cooking, and the rest of the day until sunset, to worry.

Then---shabbos.
Sweet dreams.