Lamb Vindaloo

Panic begins to descend, but I need to calm down. I did not give New Editor a specific date. I told (them) this week, and if I have to wait until Friday to send (them) an update, then I wait. My source, on the basis of my research, may not exist, but most likely does; this is not a time to go driving around center city for Fancy Feast wet meat that Joey is not going to voice complaint over, but by tonight I shall be forced, having given up, bought a bag of  Kit & Kaboodle called it treats, and the children seem quite happy chasing dry food all over the studio. They want dry food, and this drives mother to distraction, worrying about Beloved Son's bladder. I do not leave it in their bowl, and for now this is the best I can do, having inexplicably lost two cans of the aforementioned wet meat, I have to go get more, but it will be a late night drive.

10/5 edit: My guilt lies in this laxity, as my poor child would have still been alive if I had remained strict, although I had hoped he was cured, as there were no blocks in his previous straining behavior when I did manage to get him in; I loved this animal, despite my resentment of Aunt Marie obligating me with 27 years of responsibility, sometimes conflict with my now incisively hated landlord. I have no one with whom I can share my grief, not an intimate in the truest sense.
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I deleted my March 2010 post about my taste for Indian food discovered at the Taj Mahal; if I wish to now begin my my lede (deep breath). I did indicate, in the 2010 post, that the restaurant on Chestnut Street that was known as the Taj Mahal was closed. I do not know why, but this is what I did in 1997, other than cyber sex and trolling for the real thing, I rolled into restaurants, franchises, some now defunct, and spent money on meals I could not afford, alone. I am not sure what it would take anymore not to always be on the inner self of my own consciousness.