Reading Camus, and then -

Greetings from the center of the universe! 
There is nothing to report but this:  A certain black and white cat of my acquaintance has left a gift this morning for us - the back half of a small rodent.  It may be a mouse, or a pocket gopher.  Without the front half it's hard to tell.  The cat - who is orca-colored - informs us by this means that the seasons are progressing as planned, that the world, against all other evidence, remains upon its axis, and that he will take his breakfast on the veranda.  M. LeChat strolls obliquely into the room as we write and regards us with affectionate disdain before announcing his desire for immediate egress.  He will go out at this time, and will remain out through the night.  We needn't wait up.  These things, these and the little snails that terrorize the roses, are the only signs of spring we need.