My head hurts. Yeah I know that's one hell of an opening line. But I'm sitting here with Twitter open in one window and listening to my phone get my tweet replies from across the room five minutes after the fact and damn... my head hurts.
So the cat came home today. She talks back now. Conversations just got a lot funner. (Oh please I made up that word eons ago... stop looking at me like that...) I am slowly becoming the crazy cat lady. As for Mambo, well she takes it all in stride. She hops in my lap, claws her way painfully to my shoulder to eat my hair and when I tear her off of me and throw her on the bed, she repeats the process three times until I have tired her out nd she falls asleep on my bed.
OH SHIT A MOUSE JUST RAN UNDER MY BED. time to wake the damn cat.
Put the cat on the floor and shooed her under my bed. She is now looking at me from the corner of my bed with an expresson akin to WTF am I doing on the damn floor.
I love my cat. I miss my midnight. She was a mouser.
So I guess that clean thing just got became a more critical need than even I figured. I'm not worried... It's just an itty bitty field mouse but still standards have to be set. Fucker gotta die. This is what happens when your son wants to be the PEAT president and put the mouse he catches outside. When this one gets caught he's going down the toilet. I wonder if I can get some glue traps in the morning... Ah who am I kidding... afternoon.
So I'm actually in no mood for this and I'm going to end it before I go into one of my I really want a man tirades. I mean I do. I really really do but I'm about to just open my eyes and realize, it ain't gonna happen.
So I'm going to read in bed and pretend that there's someone to talk to in my house that doesn't meow or squeak.
Goodnight.
