Last night, we had to chase Rufus down so we could put him back in the guest bedroom for the night. He spends most of his time during the day under the couch in the living room, and I sit down by the couch and visit with him and stick my hand under the couch to pet him. If I stick a straw under there, he’ll grab at it, and I can hear him batting at toys under there, too. He seems pretty happy, and if he needs to hang out under the couch for a few days to feel safe, that’s okay with me. I just like to put him in the guest bedroom overnight so that he can have a little time without the other cats glaring at him and stealing his food.
The problem is that riiiiiight before bedtime is when he’s at his most curious, and so instead of hanging out under the couch, he’s slinking around the kitchen or down the hallway – last night he ran upstairs and hid under my bed. I was letting Fred chase him down, but when it appeared that he was having a hard time catching Rufus, I went to help.
“First of all, there’s a wasp,” Fred said, pointing to the cord to the blinds by the window. Hanging there, glaring malevolently, was a red wasp. I headed back out of the room.
“Are you not going to help me?” Fred said plaintively.
“Let me kill the wasp first,” I said. I got a piece of paper towel, grabbed the wasp with it, and then squeezed ’til I heard that crunching sound that always makes my metaphorical balls climb up into my body. I tossed the crumpled piece of paper on my dresser, and went to help Fred. We had Rufus several times, but he managed to get away from us, and then we had to chase him back downstairs and ended up upstairs again, finally catching him and putting him in a carrier to take him back downstairs.
It’s always fun and games at our house, y’know.
So this morning Fred woke me up before he left for work, and we discussed Rufus for a few minutes and then discussed the lack of baby kittens in the foster room (MAGGIE), and then he left for work and I tried to get back to sleep, but couldn’t. I finally got up and took my shower and got dressed for the day (did I mention that I’m finally back to wearing regular clothes during the day instead of the comfy, comfy sleep pants and t-shirt I wore for the first month after surgery?).
I was walking back into my bedroom to make my bed and open the blinds, and I glanced over at my dresser, to see the crumpled piece of paper towel sitting there. I remembered that I hadn’t flushed the dead wasp the night before, so I picked up the paper towel and headed into the bathroom. I uncrumpled the piece of paper towel…
AND THE WASP WAS NOT THERE.
I went back into my bedroom and looked on the dresser, on the floor, behind the door. NO WASP.
So what I’m saying to you is that there’s an ugly wasp on the loose in this house, and he’s got murder in his heart and my name on his waspy little lips. If I disappear, please start looking for me. I’ll be the sporting a full-body wasps’ nest.
My computer seems to be slowly shitting the bed, and thus I am writing this on Fred’s computer because I’m too damn lazy to go upstairs and get my laptop. His fucking keyboard is like a mile and a half from me, I can barely reach the fucking thing, even with it pulled as far toward me as I can pull it. How the fuck does he reach this thing? His arms must drag the ground when he walks. You’d think I would have noticed that. Also, it’s a shitty keyboard. Also also, he runs Linux instead of Windows, and the goddamn clock is in the upper right corner and I keep forgetting that, and so I look in the lower right corner AS GOD INTENDED to see what time it is, and then I find myself confused, and I look all over the place, all “Duhr? What TIME is it?”
Also, his chair is huge and uncomfortable. I feel like I’m sitting in one of those ridiculously oversized giants’ chairs. Sugarbutt keeps climbing up behind me and laying down and pressing his back feet against me in a vain attempt to push me off the chair, and Tommy keeps jumping up on the back of the chair and smacking at Sugarbutt, and Elwood keeps sticking his ass in my face, and I’m about to vote all their asses off the island.
***SURVIVOR SPOILER; SKIP IT IF YOU DIDN’T SEE THE EPISODE FROM TWO WEEKS AGO***
Was it not hilarious when Russell got his ass handed to him by Matt and reacted by sobbing like the little bitch he is? LOVE IT.
***SURVIVOR SPOILER OVER; RESUME READING WHINY POST***
Did I mention that his keyboard sucks? His mouse, too. There’s nothing about this computer and desk and chair that I don’t hate. WhineWhineWhine.
No one should have to live like this. THE HORROR.
NAME ONE OF MAGGIE’S BABIES!
And here to see the spreadsheet.
The most popular day as far as guesses go is this Saturday. I hope y’all know something I don’t, because I can’t wait to see these babies.
Note: If you entered the pool, please take a quick look at the spreadsheet to be sure I entered you under the right day and time, would you? (Unless you entered last night, in which case I haven’t had a chance to enter you on the spreadsheet yet!)
Nope, not yet.
“Tell them I can totally be bribed.”
Rufus in the sun.
Rufus in his favorite spot on the cat tree.
Rufus carefully sniffing Jake so as not to rouse his ire.
Despite challenges from Corbie and Jake, Elwood would like to assure you that he remains king of the scratcher. He knows you were worried.
Previously
2010: What babies?
2009: You’d think it’s not such a big decision, but I AM a master ditherer, so dither I shall.
2008: And then they tried to say that I was calling Rick’s feet “dainty”, so in one short day I managed to insult everyone in the house.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: I. Am. PISSED.
2004: “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t believe I quite understand. Could you explain this “spoonful” word to me via pantomime again?”
2003: That, or she’s a stalker-reader.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Some people just have a smack-me face, don’t they?