Atonement-mania!

3 hours till fast-breaking . . .

I only go into synagogue for weddings and aufrufs anymore, so the real substance of my atonement on Yom Kippur is the fasting. Like every other year, I spent the week dreading my sundown-to-sundown fast, ignoring of course the fact that it's once a year, it's probably good for me, and it sure as hell in't no Ramadan.

But it's been 21 hours with not so much as a drop of water. I'm kind of getting high on the no-food thing, and just a few minutes ago I did that thing where you look at your friend and see a talking steak. Except it was my cat and he was a talking profiterole. Goddamn, Spike, you can't be so tasty like that.