This day needs a reset button

I woke up this morning to the sound of Wednesday's little paws scuffling around my room in the way that she does only when she's after a mouse. I didn't move for a while, in some sort of delusional "if I lie here long enough, the problem will go away on its own" mentality. (It didn't work.) When I finally managed to drag myself out of bed, the mouse (which was completely retarded, I swear) was cowering on the floor as Wednesday just lay there, ready to trap it if it tried to get away, but not trying to kill it or anything. (My cat, the animal rights activist.) I attempted to catch it in a bag so I could take it outside, but finally gave up, and the mouse ran behind one of my bookshelves. (Later, after I showered, I noticed there was a headless mouse on my carpet, though I think it was actually a different mouse, because it didn't seem very, um...fresh. I don't really want to think about how many mice are in my room right now.)

After this fun (and also telling my dad that we really, really need to set some traps, and why didn't you listen to me yesterday when I said I heard mice feet in the ceiling?), I headed upstairs to get ready...and stepped right in the cat puke that was all over the stairs. Thank you, Monique, for eating Wednesay's food, instead of your special "sensitive stomach" food that we specifically buy so you don't puke all the time.

I then turned to Choco for comfort, petting her and telling her what a good girl she was for not leaving dead mice on my floor or puking all over the stairs, so of course she went and pooped half in, half out of the litter box.

I don't know, I guess maybe I should be glad that my cats are trying to fill my life with a variety of annoyances, rather than boring me with the same thing over and over.

This day needs a reset button

I woke up this morning to the sound of Wednesday's little paws scuffling around my room in the way that she does only when she's after a mouse. I didn't move for a while, in some sort of delusional "if I lie here long enough, the problem will go away on its own" mentality. (It didn't work.) When I finally managed to drag myself out of bed, the mouse (which was completely retarded, I swear) was cowering on the floor as Wednesday just lay there, ready to trap it if it tried to get away, but not trying to kill it or anything. (My cat, the animal rights activist.) I attempted to catch it in a bag so I could take it outside, but finally gave up, and the mouse ran behind one of my bookshelves. (Later, after I showered, I noticed there was a headless mouse on my carpet, though I think it was actually a different mouse, because it didn't seem very, um...fresh. I don't really want to think about how many mice are in my room right now.)

After this fun (and also telling my dad that we really, really need to set some traps, and why didn't you listen to me yesterday when I said I heard mice feet in the ceiling?), I headed upstairs to get ready...and stepped right in the cat puke that was all over the stairs. Thank you, Monique, for eating Wednesay's food, instead of your special "sensitive stomach" food that we specifically buy so you don't puke all the time.

I then turned to Choco for comfort, petting her and telling her what a good girl she was for not leaving dead mice on my floor or puking all over the stairs, so of course she went and pooped half in, half out of the litter box.

I don't know, I guess maybe I should be glad that my cats are trying to fill my life with a variety of annoyances, rather than boring me with the same thing over and over.