It's not all about me, I swear

It's been a hectic week here in the city, so Luc and I have planned another weekend escape to the mountains. These mountains, however, are significantly more populated than the ones we trekked into last weekend. Not so much mountains, per se, as an overly developed town.

We're going to relax and read and pretty much just hang around. After all, I need my beauty rest, we have our engagement photos next week. In preparation I got my hair dyed, just a touch-up to add a little excitement to my otherwise mousy look. According to people at work though, my darker hair makes me look like an evil-twin version of myself.

After all of that self-indulgent "me" talk, I feel I owe you, my lovely readers, a story:
Last week a woman on the bus had her cat with her in a carrier. When she noticed me staring at her kitty she began talking to me, telling me how much the cat loved buses. I asked if she was just taking the cat for a ride, she replied that the cat was sick and she was taking her to get help. Then she got off. At the hospital. The human hospital. I wonder how that went?