Jennifer Weiner, the author of Good in Bed (which I really liked) has a blog that I’m enjoying. Check it out.

This morning, I was about to eat breakfast, and since it was still rather cool outside I didn’t want the back door open while I was sitting at the table eating. So I shooed the cats inside and started to make my breakfast. They sat about looking sadly at me and then gazing out the window, then back at me. Since I’m not a heartless bitch (shaddup), I came up with a solution – I opened one of the windows in the library, took off the screen, and voila! Instant access to the back yard for the kitties. They milled about confusedly, sniffing out the window, looking at me, and then stepping out onto the window sill. Eventually, they figured it out and went out through the window and resumed their wanderings about the yard.

Five minutes later, I was eating breakfast, when I glanced up at the door, where Spanky was sitting and howling mournfully. "Momma!" he cried "Momma, I’ll be good! Let me in Momma, let me in!"

Obviously in the few minutes he’d been outside, it slipped his little pea brain how he’d gotten there. I had to go into the library, stick my head out the window and call to him. He turned and looked at me for a long moment and then immediately did a double-take – I swear to god, if he was a cartoon, his double-take would sound like "doink!" – and then ran over to the window as if he’d never seen it before, sniffing wildly. I went back to eating breakfast, and eventually figured out how to get back inside, because he’s sitting in the computer room doorway giving the vacuum cleaner dirty looks at the moment.

Have I mentioned that instead of chasing flies with a flyswatter, I use the vacuum cleaner attachment to suck them into the innards of the vacuum cleaner, where they probably die horrible, dusty, cat-hair-filled deaths? I’d try Shelley‘s cool hairspray-and-lighter method to fry them in mid-air, but I’m too afraid that I’d do something like burn the house down. And you KNOW that’s something I’d do, don’t you?

Hell, at least it’d give me a good journal entry.

Here’s a special something just for you, Nance::

This is why I buy the cheap comforters – because at least two cats spend all day long snoozing on the bed. And it gets so hair-matted after a few months despite regular vacuumings (that’s right, I vacuum my bed, you wanna make something of it?) that it’s easier to just buy a new one instead of having the old one dry-cleaned.

Oh, speaking of cats, last night as we were watching Greg the Bunny on TV, Fancypants swished into the living room and after getting some petting from Fred, settled in the middle of the floor, directly in front of me. He proceeded to groom and groom and groom. For many minutes he groomed, and then I noticed that he was spending a GREAT deal of time grooming his mid-section – IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN – with his legs kicked up in the air. He finally stopped and looked up at me with big, dark eyes and gave me a come-hither look.

Which is when I saw his little kitty penis pointing directly at me.

(Little Kitty Penis will be the name of my second novel)

"Agh! Get out of here!" I yelled, tossing a pillow at him. Rolling and flailing, he got to his feet and flounced out of the room.

Apparently Spring fever has hit him hard, the little perv.

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