Ths news story was just too funny to keep to myself. I mean, just the URL alone is awesome, and then you read the story and find out that the crazy cat in question is far less whack than any of the humans involved in the story. Hee!
And now I must race home to put out our CSA box even though I'm probably too late already.
Why, that would be my Iggy Pop, despite his having done his extremely loud and annoying best to wake up our whole block starting at 4:30 AM. He's been much better-behaved for the hour and a half I've been up this morning, to the point where I wonder if maybe he knows he got put in the garage for being a screamy beast. And now, just as I was starting to get my fill of InterWeb and the garden was starting a siren song of "hey, it's not too hot to live outside... yet", he is all curled up on my lap, purring, so I have to type this smug little missive one-handed as I pet him and of course can't get up to do any kind of work.
Good cat.
Dear FreeCycle:
Please stop sending me offers of kittens, especially ones with pictures. I want them all, and my Iggy Pop probably does too, but I hope I'm still several decades away from turning into a crazy cat lady, so yeah. In the meantime, if you could just remind everybody to spay and neuter their pets, that would be great. Thanks!
Love,
-Tracy
...was brought to me by Allison's cat Lilith.
What's that scratching noise? I wondered, and followed it to the bedroom. No sign of Lilith; Iggy was sleeping peacefully on the bed. But then I heard meowing, and it was definitely Lilith's trademark squeak. Where did I finally find her?
In my underwear drawer.
I'm not sure how she got in there, much less how it managed to get closed on her, but there you have it. I think maybe I'd left the drawer above it open, and she crawled in underneath and couldn't get back out? I had to close the drawer above and open the underwear drawer so she could escape, and yeah. It was pretty surreal.
( In fact, the quiz loves me almost a little too much. )
Now to see if tea and beautiful weather love me, too... oh, wait. It is a beautiful fall day outside and I have a nice big mug of Irish breakfast. Also my cat is super-cute. Yay!
So I went outside (in my pajamas, because wearing pajamas makes everything better) to check the mail (I got a new ATM card --- didn't know the old one was that close to expiring), and on my way back in Iggy Pop made a bold escape attempt. He got as far as the front porch, but I caught him by his tail and dragged him back inside, pulling the screen door closed behind us and trying my best to ignore his pathetic angry-hurt-sad cat noises.
Now I am feeling very guilty for being mean to my kitty, but dammit, if he's going to get into fights with the neighbor cats when he goes outside, then he's not going out. (Today, anyway; I bet we'll feel differently tomorrow at 5 AM or whenever he starts his yowling, and he gets really twitchy and unhappy if we keep him in for more than a few days anyway.) But I still feel like a really bad cat mama. I might have to buy back his love with canned food. I am such a wuss.
So today I got to work a little before 7, like I usually do, and there was no one in the kitchen, although it looked like the usual opening was more or less in progress. I got to the registers to check in, and the first server I saw said, "Oh good! We have a cook!" Uh-oh.
Turns out the usual opener (Lisa) got to work but wasn't feeling very well and eventually got sent home. The manager on duty was on the phone trying to get ahold of another cook, but no luck. He ended up being my toast monkey while I held the line for close to two hours, running on nothing but pure adrenaline and the constant, dreadful feeling that I must've forgotten something ( It was the bacon, but even that turned out okay eventually. )
I had my first break at 11 and then it finally occurred to me to ask: did this mean I'd be working tomorrow? When I left a little after 2:30, it was still unclear whether Lisa would be sufficiently recovered to work (i.e. whether I'd have to cover for her). I rode my bike home the long way to relax, bitched to Peter for awhile before taking a nice long relaxing shower, but half an hour ago the phone rang and guess what? I'm opening tomorrow. Whee, ha.
I think it's time I asked for a raise. I mean, I held my own today under circumstances that would have made our other opener seriously freak out, and they're trusting me to open tomorrow, not him (although, granted, he's the 7 AM, so even if I'm super-slow he can probably have me caught up in no time). The manager who helped me on line today is the same guy who a few weeks ago gave me a bit of a talking-to, saying I needed to pick up the pace, but he's asking me to open tomorrow, so yeah. If they're gonna let me play like one of the big kids, then I'd like to get paid more like one of the big kids.
Oy vey. I stayed up kinda late last night playing with LJ style crap, thinking I only had to work today and could rest up over the weekend. I'd better go to bed early tonight, but before then I'm going to be really nice to myself. I see a lot of lounging around in bed in my future, even if the cat is being really loud and resentful at being locked inside so he can't make more trouble with the neighbor kitties.
(Matt Ruff, for those of you who don't know, is one of my very favoritest fiction writers. His books may not be great literature, but they're always damn fun to read, and I wish I could come up with anything half as clever as even a small fraction of his characters. Here's what I wrote about him for Everything2, although it's sort of out of date now.)
In other news, we're watching Cassie the neighbors' kitten this weekend while her family goes camping, and the weather outside sucks so there's currently two cats of cuteness curled up on our couch. You know you envy me.
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