Finally. Cathy-on-a-Stick is back. But I feel I should offer a brief explanation.
See, it's not like I haven't been going places, doing things, seeing folks. There was the Eiffel Tower in Paris ("Just a beeg, giant teenker toy," said COS in a very bad imitation of a French accent) and the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona ("Mad cows chasing ID-iots," said COS in an even worse imitation of a Spanish accent) and the Great Sphinx of Giza ("If I wanted sand and heat, I'd go to Tybee," said COS in what I guess she thought was an Egyptian accent).
Alas, Cathy on a Stick did not join me. She had fallen (and she can't get up) behind a small chest by the kitchen door. Whilst looking for an errant M & M, I came across COS, dusty and prostrate on the floor. She had some interesting, not to mention unladylike, things to say about that, too (in a passable imitation of a Southerner having a hissy fit).
And now it looks like it could be awhile before she gets to go on a trip with me.
I sent her to the corner.