...because we aren't on Bug Alert enough around here...
The other night, I fell asleep on the couch, while reading my new book. I was awakened at about two in the morning by the cat crashing around in the kitchen. The sound of her bumping into cabinets was acompanied by this REALLY LOUD skittering noise. I listened for a bit, figured the sound was due to a commando squad of three-inch-long cockroaches rapelling down the side of the refrigerator, thought "fuck that", and went to bed. (No need to wake up the rest of the house by going out there, taking a look, and screaming my lungs out, now, is there?)
Several hours later, I woke up again to hear the husbeast out in the kitchen, swearing and cursing, figured he was dealing with the commando roaches, snickered, and went back to sleep.
Last night he finally told me what had really happened: the cat was STILL crashing around in the kitchen at five AM and woke him, and unlike me, he went out to do battle. What he found was a cat so exausted she could barely move, and an uncooked pasta shell that the cat had apparently been chasing around the tile floor for three or four hours. He was quite irritated with the entire situation.
Sekhmet, you fucker.
The Yarn Harlot has, today, posted quite a good rant about blogging and manners and the obvious. (Dude, what you post on your blog? The whole world can read that.) As always, she sums it all up perfectly. Available here.
Don't you love when you put a baby down for a nap, and they spend an hour and a half jumping up and down in their crib, singing and calling the cat to rescue them? "Kitty! KITTY!!"
Meanwhile, Sekhmet lays in my knitting chair and snickers.