Trying to figure out how it is the cats know when I intend to do laundry.

Today is one of those cold, damp days of fall when I won't be able to put stuff on the clothesline out back. Instead, I will need to load up the old drier that came with the house and crank 'er up. Sadly, this old drier has just about seen its last days, and has sounded more and more like a cement mixer churning fifty-pounds of large, jagged rocks with every successive repair.

"We can make it heat to dry AND add a little more noise to the process for ya, lady. How's that sound?"

Yikes. And the tremendously sad thing is as loud as it sounds for me (from everywhere in the house), I hate turning it on when the girls cuddle up somewhere in the lower level for a day-long catnap, 'cuz I know how disruptive it would be for them.

Sheesh.