Until I feel better* and moaning ceases to be my native language, I’ll be relying on a new style of posting here at GC. That style’s called, How Many Hairballs Am I Gagging On Now?
Each post will begin with a quote. For example —
“It’s a natural story for John to tell,” [Doubleday’s Stephen] Rubin says. “It has many of the same themes present in his novels — legal suspense, the death penalty, wrongful conviction, even baseball. It’s the ultimate true legal thriller.”
— and then will then specify the number of hairballs, spring-loaded in GC’s stomach acids, that quote calls forth.
In this case: 
. Three. No explanations, no commentary, just this cat’s body, multi-tasking.
*I know this doesn’t mix well with hairballs, but it might go well with mixes: (insufficiantly sympathetic) friends and family have found that GC’s references to her cold/ flu/ endochronimmuneodeficiancitis make for a surprisingly good drinking game. Knock one back each time GC
-uses the word “bedsores”
-posts pictures of suicidal, cold, bath-dunked cats
-promises a two-part post and calls it a day before part .75
-puns on any bodily secretion (calling herself a “phlegm-fatale,” etc.).