Well, I have really outsmarted myself this time. Just as I'm trying to simplify my life, it suddenly got incredibly complicated.

A couple of weeks ago, I drove to southern Utah to have a writing retreat in the middle of nowhere. It was wonderful: I got lots of writing and reading done, took walks, drove around the countryside, and stayed at a lodge I've been to before and love. If you've ever been on a retreat, you know it's possible to get sort of lonely, but there was a nest of five baby swallows outside my back door that I watched several times a day, and that was very companionable. They began to fledge the day I left: the bravest three flying around on the lawn, wobbling and practicing and then sneaking back into the nest when their parents weren't looking.

Meanwhile, this lodge had several litters of kittens all born around the same time and wanted to get rid of them. Now, let's face it: I am a witless fool for kittens. I cannot be allowed out of the house if there's an Animal Shelter benefit within 50 miles. Cats I adore, but kittens — there is no word to describe it. My friends know this about me, but none of them were in Utah. I was on my own. I think the baby swallows helped absorb some of my maternal instinct because I made it to the final day without cuddling any kittens. But at the very last minute, somehow there was a cardboard box in the back of my car with a towel in it and three tiny orange and white tabbies all attempting to climb out at the same time. I'm still not sure exactly how it happened.

But, being a practical person, I stopped at the next grocery store and got cat litter and a second cardboard box to put it in. Then I drove six hours to Ely, Nevada where I had a reservation at the Motel 6. Three kittens loose in your car can be distracting and the hogbacks and switchbacks I was driving on had rather sharp drops on one or both sides, so any steering mistakes were going to be fatal, but we made it. The second day the kittens were used to me and rode the whole seven hours sitting on my shoulders, even when we hit a lightning storm outside Fallon.

I was quite shocked when I brought them in the house and my other cats reacted badly: Gracie hissed, Sid looked appalled and ran out the window, and Skeezix made that Hallowe'en moaning noise cats like to make that raises the hair on your neck. I kept saying, "But they're just babies, they're so cute!" but it didn't seem to help. And, as one of my friends remarked, "How would you like it if three toddlers got dropped off at your house without your permission?!?"

So now I'm placating the grown cats with sardines and tuna, while trying to keep the young ones from eating my tax returns. I've complicated my life immeasurably again, and all for love, as usual.