My friend Tiffany is moving to Paris, and she gave me her sunlight simulator to use while she is gone. For the uninformed, a sunlight simulator is a hideously bright light that one is supposed to sit in front of for a period of time on winter days if one suffers from seasonal depression. The light is apparently the same wavelength as real sunlight; it lights up my minuscule cave of an apartment like an atomic blast.

So guess who has gone and fallen in love with it?

The instant I flipped it on, my dog dragged every one of her toys over to it, as if she was leaving sacrifices to a god, then basked in front of it for at least fifteen minutes. She has spent time there every day since.

This morning, upon arriving home from a rather delightful slumber party (at which I stayed up until almost three in the morning eating junk, watching teen movies, reading tarot cards, and performing facials), I was answering some emails when I heard a languid slurping sound behind me. Turning, I beheld the sight of my little dog pressed full-body against the sunlight simulator, licking it like an ice cream cone.

"What are you doing?" I said. "What. Are. You. Doing?"

Clearly, a hint is being dropped.