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And now my father's sick... which means that, since we share living/eating/everything space and since my resistances are at a low with my weird sleep, if he's got something I'll probably catch it. (I know, I'm such a sympathetic daughter... I can't help it, I'm completely paranoid about illness, to the point of a phobia)... he says he doesn't have the flu though, that it's something he ate... and since he apparently drank a McDonald's milkshake that's been in the fridge for a week, I'm kinda betting that might be it.

In other news, the strange kitty's still meowing like mad anytime someone comes around, but starting to actually venture out from under the furniture, into the kitchen and pantry. I'm pretty sure he's a boy, as much as I could check between him treating me like a catnip golem. He also seems to have eaten, although with another cat and a dog around, it's hard to be certain. And the more I'm around him, the more I realize he's totally skin and bones.

Ugh, so tired... was worried about the cat, and didn't get enough sleep.