Last night, Booty was sitting in her usual spot on top of the desk shelf, watching the parking lot cars drive in and out. When a particularly bright headlight meandered across the line where the ceiling meets the wall, she made a particularly zealous jump to catch it.

The back of my desk is about six inches away from the wall, which allows plenty of room for wires and plugs and miscellaneous heat fans. Despite sleeping atop the desk every day, this was not something Booty remembered. She slid from the ceiling to the floor with claws unfurled, and became caught in the web of power cords at ground level. After several minutes of shuffling and scratching, she managed to climb up the wires and reappeared through the monitor hole, unshaken.

Since then, she likes to chase the lights on the window seat, where there are no treacherous Pits of Doom.

I submitted all my paperwork for a security clearance yesterday, so in about six months I'll get the interview asking if I've ever worn red shirts or known any militant foreign nationals pursuing a revenge agenda (Alex).

Yesterday's notable search terms:

parno queens, prix boulanger web-can, furfurrate, how beatles affect teenagers, turn of the screw insane governess, what does roftlmao mean, who experimented on radish seeds with different types of water, villains of the bible, sealable lids, short stories-revenge, salamandastron cliff notes

I get about ten searches a day now for one of: Theory of Lengthwise Rolling, Anorexia Nervosa in Bulgarian Bees, or Atlas of Tongue Coating. The pace has picked up for high school students searching for essays to plagiarise. I'm very tempted to replace one with the most ridiculous literary tripe possible, just to see if I get any irate letters from failed students.