Damn, is it only Tuesday? It feels like this week has been 15 days long already, and it’s still fairly new. The last week before Weigh Day always drags, and every day is harder and harder to stay off the scale. I’m remaining strong, though, and haven’t stepped on it yet.

The hamsters are gone, taken back to the store from whence they came, lickety-split. The spud has been having an awful time dealing with all the noise they make during the night (being nocturnal creatures and all), and had taken to putting them in the bathroom before she went to bed. Only, she then started putting them in the bathroom hours before bedtime, because all their running on the wheel and fighting while chattering in a pissed-off manner at each other was really bothering her. Fred pointed out that living in a cage in the bathtub in the dark was no kind of fun for a hamster, and that she needed to keep them in her room until bedtime. She did so for a few nights and then asked if we could take the hamsters back to the store. Fred and I discussed it, Fred called the pet store to talk to them about it, and then we packed ’em up and took ’em back. The entire way there, the mother hamster ranranran on her wheel, and the babies stood in various spots in the cage and looked around in confusion.

Once at the pet store, Fred took the cage in and spoke to the manager, who was impressed that so many of the babies had survived – according to him, a rate of 50% or higher is just incredible, and our rate was 100% – and he was also impressed at how docile the hamsters were when he started picking them up and checking them out, especially the mother. Mothers tend to be a lot less docile than this one.

And then, guess what?

The mother is fucking PREGNANT again. When Fred told me, I did a godthat’snasty shiver, but – again, according to the store manager – they can get pregnant again the very day they give birth. I don’t know whether I believe that or not, but I do feel like we dodged a bullet. Another few weeks, and we would have had a nasty surprise.

The spud slept like a baby (though she told me this morning that a few times she thought she heard the sound of the hamsters running on the wheel. Perhaps we’re haunted?), and there are no longer shavings littering the floor between her bedroom and the bathroom – they stuck to her feet and then got dragged out into the hallway, and sometimes made it across the living room. But I miss those damn hamsters, ’cause they were a riot to watch.

While we were on the way to the movie store this afternoon, she turned to me and said "For my birthday" which is in October, by the way, "Can I get another kind of pet?"

Um. NO.