I wish I hadn't stayed up so late last night working. Setting the alarm for 6am didn't seem like such a bad idea at the time, but right now I could use another few hours of sleep. Actually, I really shouldn't complain.  Nine times out of ten, Axel would've had me up half an hour earlier, curling his nails into my shoulder in his own special feline way of greeting - before yowling his way to the food bowl. Cats... so demanding.<br/><br/>I should feed him.  God only knows what shoes or furniture he'll destroy while I'm at work if I don't.<br/><br/>Still, I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something.  Did I have an early meeting I'm forgetting?  Is it someone's birthday? I shake my head to clear it a bit and try to ignore the unsettled sensation gnawing at the back of my brain.  If there's something important I'm forgetting, my planner app will chirp and let me know.<br/><br/>I cross in front of the dresser and without thinking, pick up the remote and aim it more or less in the direction of the TV, turning it on.  I don't know why I do that - force of habit, I guess.  It's not like I have time to sit and watch the morning news while having a leisurely breakfast - VRS doesn't exactly keep<em>banker's hours</em>, after all.  That's all right.  The long hours will be worth it in the end, and I can always grab a bagel from Sal's coffee cart on my way to the office.<br/><br/>For now, I need to find that damn cat and feed him.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Choice:<br/><br/>B.  Turn on the TV in the bedroom and begin looking for your cat.