The cats finally came home yesterday. Eric and I were there early, first in line to pick them up, despite a small delay. At 9:15 am, we were stopped for a random breathalyzer. Eric says this routinely occurs on his commute to work. You know you live in a country of alcholics when they stop you at 9:15 am and ask the question, "Have you had a drink in the last 15 minutes?"
Anyway, the cats spent yesterday settling in. Leroy made periodic juants out from under the bed, and both cats checked out the balcony. I'm trying to figure out if they can be trusted out there without leaping to their deaths. They have been through some recent trauma.
Last night, Eric and I met up with Anna and Reza and Stefanie and Jake at a Russian restaurant. Anna ordered some amazing appetizers (called entrees here), and vodka was consumed. It was a really good time, but now we're up and trying to get on the road out to Bondi for the Sculpture Walk with some friends, hopefully followed by brunch. My brain hurts. Now I know why Anna can consume so much alchohol and not feel hungover -- it must be the Russianness.