Operation ÖSTERREICH
I'm now comfortably down a belt hole. I've been in the grey zone betwixt standard & "minus one" for several months now, but standard is finally insufficient to hold my trousers up & prevent exposure of my boxer shorts. This is grand news on the cusp of Lent, a time during which I am genuinely confident moderation will be the order of the day. Here's hoping that "minus one" will become the new "standard."

Diet & exercise, butterball. There's no secret to it, just diet & exercise. The fat or the girl, you can't have both.

Hello, Kitty
Diva likes to come into my room in the morning. She'll jump up onto my bed, meow loudly, scratch her head against the corner of my nightstand, bat alarmingly at the Rosary hanging from the headboard, pace around, meow whenever I neglect to pet her, walk to the foot of the bed where I cannot pet her without sitting up, & repeat these steps in whatever order strikes her fancy for five minutes, by which time her amusement has passed. She then jumps to the floor & exits. All of this starts with her meowing & scratching (without claws) at my door; I get out of bed & let her in before falling back under the covers. I left my door open slightly last night, so Diva could enter directly without waiting for me to let her in. She didn't appear when she normally would, but no sooner had I made a run to the water closet & close my door upon returning to my room than who should meow loudly & longingly outside my door but Diva herself. She didn't stay as long as she normally does; mayhap she was infuriated with my tinkering with her beloved routine. Tonight, I shall again sleep with my door closed.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Hippos, "Celebrate" from Forget the World (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: One last entrant in our now-annual post-Valentine's Day festival of the horrors & failures of love, before… whatever comes next. Last year, I intended to follow the anti-love week with a week of genuine love songs, but was forestalled by an epic bout of the dreadful sick, the bout so bad it drove me to consult a physician for the first time in years. I feel no particular desire to feature a week of heartfelt love songs, but I think I shall in deference to last year's whim, & to see if love week should become the annual companion to anti-love week. But first, "Celebrate":

"Don't you think that I've found somethin' new,
I'm finished with you.

I celebrate, I celebrate,
My days of hate, my days of hate,
'Cause now I see
You're nothin' to me!"