Here I go, blaming the cats for things again.
My neck has been killing me since Monday. The kind of hurt that makes it almost impossible to turn one’s head. It’s been really fun checking my blind spot while driving. It’s feeling a little better today, but as I was going through my photos, I realized that I captured PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE pointing the finger straight at Moosh Moosh.
Yes, my “good son” is apparently to blame for my latest injury.
The photo below was taken last Saturday night. At the time, I thought, “How adorable. My son loves me SO MUCH. I’m so very lucky to have this lil snugglebunny in my life!”
I see now that this was step 1 of the evil plan.
Sunday night. Gettin’ all up in my bidness. I still vaguely found it cute, but I was wondering if he was trying to take over my pillow entirely. It was a bit uncomfortable for me, but he’s my kid, and mothers have to sacrifice for the greater good sometimes.
It was all part of the master plan. The way I see it, this angel-faced devil hatched up this plan in order to force me to sleep in an awkward position which he knew would result in a stiff neck, keeping me out of my night job so that I would be home to spend time with them and feed them at an earlier time.
On the other hand, he’s not that smart. Maybe Taco was behind it all.
Or maybe I do, but I’m too lazy to. I’ve been stretching my brain a lot at work lately. Most recently learning about SEO and keywords and overall expanding my marketing knowledge. So I think MAYBE all my creativity is used up?
It’s also overly hot out. I have a theory that this is melting my brain. I’ve been late for work (this is SO unlike me, I am a stickler for being on time – but only for work, I’m late to everything else), I’ve been unable to form simple sentences at times and even worse, I’ve been in no mood to play with the kitties. I think they’re feeling neglected.
They may also be feeling neglected because I’ve been going to the gym on a mostly regularly basis lately, which means that I’m gone from 6am until (depending on how busy Big Brown is) 8pm-ish. While the boyfriend stops in between jobs, there’s obviously nothing like mommy love. I’m still a little mad at them (and blame them for my being late for work due to sleep deprivation) for not allowing me to sleep in on the weekends, my only time to sleep in, but they’ve been somewhat cute so I try to make the effort to at least pet them equally.
Yup. Here comes the brain mushing. I just ran out of things to say. Sigh.
My cats are being assholes today.
Taco slept on my stomach like an angel, up until about 5am when he puked on the bed. Then I woke up again at 7am because I heard him eating plastic. I don’t even know where he gets this crap. Discovered the puke on the bed also contained plastic. Thanks.
Moosh Moosh has been meowing all morning. Except since he doesn’t really meow, it’s more like whiny chirping. I’m trying to work at my desk for once (instead of on the bed with the laptop) because I really don’t feel like working and I have to work because I need to finish this work before tomorrow and finish it early today because I’m going to see Jim Jeffries tonight. (I am SO SO SUPER EXCITED about this! And even more excited because it’s a 6pm show, perfect for an ol’ lady who has to work in the morning. He’s really funny, and also really offensive, so if you don’t like offensive Aussies, don’t bother looking him up. I happen to love everything as offensive as it can possibly be.) But Moosh is jumping up on my desk in my face and getting cat hair in my eyes and dander in my nose and I’m already allergy-crazy today. Dick.
Have also caught Taco on the counter today, trying to get into the box of Cheerios. I can’t possibly imagine that he thought this was a good idea.
Shortly after, he was caught on the wire shelving we have in the kitchen. This is quite tricky, as he doesn’t have good footing there. Again, not sure what he thought he was going to get out of this.
And I still don’t feel like working. BAH.
I had kind of a crappy day. Not the kind of crappy day where something goes horribly wrong, leaving one devastated and forlorn — just the kind that leave you feeling like your brain just put on little brain running shoes and participated in a triathlon. The kind where you start out like “Oh, it’s Friday, whatever happens today, it’s still Friday!” and ends with zombie-walking out an hour late, hoping no one who has another question sees you before you can make your escape. The kind where you’re not even finished putting out a fire when another fire jumps in. So by “bad,” I suppose I should say “challenging.” In the long run, I don’t mind these days. I work best under high stress, oddly enough, so although I may look frantic, I’m actually operating in my element. But at the time, all I can think is “WTF WTF WTF” and “No, I don’t have time to look at the YouTube video of my proofreader doing the Harlem Shake, are you crazy?” (It was made by my work, in case you’re wondering. We have a very strict policy encouraging FUN at work. Crazy, right? I still haven’t watched this. Memo: watch that.)
After I zombie-walked out, successfully avoiding any further work, all I wanted was a quiet drive home (I’d already decided to skip the gym…I already felt like I ran a marathon). However, this is FLORIDA, and every old hag who shouldn’t be driving at her advanced age is driving here. As I was stopped at a light, a lil ol’ lady HIT MY EFFING CAR. I mean, she just bumped it. She was shoving herself in my lane from the other lane, for reasons I still do not know. As I looked back screaming, I saw that she was totally clueless. But then, the light changed, and everyone started going. As I pondered what to do, I saw that the lady next to me had seen the whole thing and understood what was going on, so I made a motion asking if there was any damage to my car (I honestly have no idea what motion I made to convey this, but whatever I did was spot-on) and she looked back and shook her head. Then I had to stop again because the car in front of me did (this is what normal people do) and I swear to jeebus she must have been millimeters away from my bumper yet again. I decided that it was unlikely that it would be worth it to stop, as she seemed to not understand what the hell was going on and I figured that being arrested for elderly abuse would really put a cap on the ol’ day. So I turned left. She did not. Which was funny, because she SO needed to get in the left lane a mile back that she HIT MY CAR.
Then I got home. And Taco started meowing. And meowing. And meowing. And meowing. This is hard to admit, and I would never ever ever ever actually do it, I kind of wanted to boot him across the room. I know. I’m a horrible person. But I didn’t, and that counts, right?
I flung myself on the bed with a dramatic flair. Two seconds later, a meowing Taco-rocket came barreling in, almost overshooting. And…he sat on my lap.
I dare you to feel sorry for yourself when a kitten puddle melts on your lap, purring. Warm, cuddly love. The best part? He shut up.
Yeah. My day really wasn’t so bad.
I brought work home tonight. This isn’t my favorite after-work activity, but I was determined to push through and get ‘er done, if you will.
It should come as no surprise that this was not to Taco’s liking, because, after all, WORK means NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO MEEEEEEEEE!
I don’t know what kind of work you, dear reader, do, but mine involves being creative and thinking and concentrating. Not always the fun kind of creative, like blogging or photoshopping pictures of kitties, the kind that you’re glad that you get paid for. The kind of work that is really quite impossible when you have a cat sitting next to you HOWLING AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS. God forbid I make the mistake of looking over and making EYE CONTACT with him, as that is a direct invitation to jump on my lap (while continuing to howl at the top of his lungs) and step all over it, which sucks doubly because I maaaay have overdone it just a touch at the gym yesterday and my legs are currently unusable and untouchable (but I so oddly want a massage, go figure).
I managed to work through during the howl breaks and somehow get it done. Poor Taco couldn’t even get TOO excited, because immediately after finishing my dearly beloved mother called, hindering the speed in which his little mouth was fed. Fortunately for him, my dearly beloved mother is also becoming quite the technologically advanced lady and suggested I put her on speaker phone. So proud of your iPhone using, Mamacita! Props on the texting, particularly Emoji.
My workplace is very dog-friendly and I realize that is much more sensible than cat-friendly…after all, I’ve never actually met anyone allergic to dogs (although I’m sure they’re out there) but many allergic to cats and dogs are really much better with the vast population than cats…but I do wish sometimes I could work AT work with a kitty on my lap. Just one that’s not meowing. While I am the resident crazy cat lady there, I’m most definitely not the only one. Many would appreciate kitteh luv. Oh, but the chaos that would ensue if I tried to haul these freaks in my office. Sigh.
Speaking of cat-friendly workplaces, if you like lolcats and you haven’t seen LOLWORK on Bravo yet, you totally should. It’s highly amusing. I love the crazy cat lady gay guy whose sample of quotes includes “People tell me my cat is like a dog and I tell them to shut up.” It’s not the most amazing show ever but it’ll give you a giggle. They don’t get to bring their cats into work but there IS a homemade cheezburger cat mascot costume! I’ll leave you with THAT thought. Good night.
As a lifelong Florida resident, I’m fairly used to hurricanes. I personally have only been in one, and technically it didn’t come on shore, just squeezed by really close. That was 1985, and I was 3. It’s actually the earliest memory I have. Evacuating to what would one day be my high school.
The number of POTENTIAL hurricanes I’ve been through, that’s a different story. Weatherpeople positively salivate over the slightest inkling of a storm brewing. You can see the excitement in their eyes. Personally, I find them fascinating. I always wanted to be a hurricane hunter, which would conveniently combine my love of hurricanes and my love of flying, but unfortunately it also involves something I would dislike, which is joining the Navy. I think it’s the navy. Either way, my aversion to authority makes that a not-so-awesome option.
Fortunately, it looks like Isaac is moving away from my little peninsula-on-a-peninsula. Which means I’ll have to work tomorrow, but it also means I don’t have to sandbag my sliding glass doors. Or put up shutters, or worry about roofs flying off. Thanks to the kitties drinking only distilled water, I am able to justify my large bottled water purchase, and it will not go to waste, like the last time I bought a bunch of water for an almost-hurricane, and let it sit in the linen closet for years (I don’t know why I stored them there, I suppose it must have seemed like a good place at the time) before realizing they’d expired. Did you know water has an expiration date? I don’t know why, maybe it’s the plastic leaching into the water or something. Either way, I’m an avid follower of the expiration dates (except with peanut butter, I’m reasonably sure that never goes bad) so I poured out the water and dutifully recycled the bottles.
I’m slightly annoyed that I didn’t buy more food for the week, as I didn’t want things to go to waste if the power went out. And I completely forgot to buy more Rescue Remedy (a natural de-stresser) for Taco. Hurricanes pose more of a threat to Taco than just blowing over his home. The Feline Idiopathic Cystitis, my vet says, seems to flare up in cats when there are hurricanes around. Sensitive little things they are. And he doesn’t even have to worry about boarding up windows!
It’s also good that we don’t have to evacuate, because I only have one cat carrier…I keep meaning to buy another one but the prices are outrageous for what is essentially a glorified gym bag.
Now I’m off to go do laundry until it’s time to pick up the boyfriend from his 2nd fantasy football draft. Draft #2 for me is online, so at least I don’t have to drive anywhere else in the crappy weather that the outer bands of Isaac are supposed to bring. Traditionally, a hurricane party could still commence (as long as you did some sort of preparation because the chance of getting hit was there, that’s the only prerequisite), but that would make for an even worse Monday.