I know it sounds cliché but I just feel like I need to spread my wings right about now. It’s, you know, time for me to fly.

Eventually he should catch up, right? But by then she’ll be dead, because butterflies don’t live that long. These May-December romances can be problematic. For example, mismatched sex drives (nonexistent in caterpillars). It’s imperative to start therapy immediately upon recognizing the problem or there’ll be nothing left to save.

In addition to this very silly comic, today, in honor of Miss Kitty’s birthday, I also baked the richest chocolate cake I’ve ever eaten. Thirty years too late for me to truly enjoy it. Ah, well. I’ve metamorphosized, too. Also into something more colorful.