Hard times can bring people closer together, even when they want to brick each other to death. Or just get divorced. Either way, the latest casualty of the new economy are divorce attorneys. According to an article in salon.com, many unhappy couples literally can not afford to legally dissolve their marriage. Portfolios shrink and bonuses wane, which can constrict assets to the point where the only way either party can preserve their lifestyle is by staying together.

While I prefer no one suffer, I rather applaud this development.

First, more people are giving mediation a chance, which encourages a direct adult discussion between the parties about how they might divide common assets. Second, and more importantly, the downturn deprives lawyers of the precious lifeblood they so crave–money. And last,  it nudges divorce attorneys one step closer to where they really belong.

In a coffin.

NOTE: To any divorce attorneys who might be reading, make sure you bill your clients for the time you spent reading this entry. They’ll appreciate it. Really.

Why I am not allowed to breed:

Stricken by late fall illness. Difficulty concentrating. Stomach aches. Eyes burn. Bleech.

Anyway, hopefully relief is coming soon.

In the meantime, proof why cats rule:

Had my first trick-or-treating run since age twelve on Friday. I think Little Red Riding Hood is looking pretty good. Hmm. Guess that makes me the Big Bad Wolf.

Once again something foul washed up on the New Jersey shore. Something beyond comprehension and the conventions of good taste.

Random, unidentified slabs of entrails from an unknown species. Complete with knife wounds and cigarette burns. My guess: someone refused to pay protection money and stuffing their body beneath a dumpster sent too weak a message.

Speaking of strange offerings from the sea, my new boss took me out to lunch last week. Definitely a new thing to work for someone I respect, rather than someone I once fantasized about goading into a fight so he might provide me an excuse to punch him in the throat. I mean, I wish the ex-boss well in all future endeavors. You go, girl!

Anyway so the super-cool-new-boss and I were chatting over burgers and he noticed I looked a bit shredded.

New Boss: Is that from drinking or a woman?

Sam: Both?

New Boss: You’re having way too much fun being divorced. I can see that.

Sam: I’m not quite sure that’s the right noun.

If everything falls into place next week, I’ll have some more details about the long underground soon to surface marketing project.

Gee, she’s having trouble getting her hands around it . . .

I would never guess what this was until the owner shared. Hint: it’s a baby.

Another clue: it lives peaceably among its furry and mischievous relatives.