I should be working. I should be getting more coffee. I'm going to write an update here instead.
Last night Cool Scientist Friend mentioned something about maybe she should try sleeping in her car. Wha??? :( Turns out that if you are not used to cats, them creeping up to you and tickling you with their whiskers, trying to determine what the hell you are, is startling. And if it happens a lot per night you lose sleep. Oh no, we can keep the cats in my room, I say, gathering their food and water and litterbox. And hopefully you will sleep better without them walking all over you.
And that was fine. Actually, as soon as it became clear I was in the room and the door was shut, the cats came out from hiding under the covers and started acting like their normal selves, nosing about, leaping all over things, sometimes scrabbling at the door. But overall it seemed to be fine.
Except I can't go through the night without needing to pee at some point. It must have been around 3 am and I decide to get up. I creep out, shooing the cats from the doorway, and close the bedroom door. I can't get it to "click" but it seems closed all right. So I use the bathroom, without bothering to lock the door. Partway through the door creaks and I see little Timido's head poke in. Oh crap! So when I'm all done and washed up I grab him and cart him with me back to the bedroom and toss him in. And then start to look around in the dark living room. If Timido came out, Loquito must be out there, preparing to make trouble and investigate the strange person.
I see a glimpse of white and go after him, and try to pick him up, but he sinks his claws into the carpet. I've got a hold of him under the belly and I pull, but he doesn't go anywhere, just gets longer and longer like taffy, holding on with his claws. And suddenly this whole situation is hilarious to me and I dissolve into giggles. You know the kind where knowing you can't be making any noise makes you laugh a million times harder? So I'm laughing so hard that I can't hold on to the cat any more, stifling myself, and all these weird little sighs and snorts are escaping me even though I've got my hands over my mouth and I'm trying to corral my cat with my knees, and I'm just laughing harder and harder, thinking, What the hell will CSF think when this wakes her up? How freaked out is she going to be?
Luckily I manage to get my self and my cat under control and we head back to the bedroom, where everybody finishes up the night mostly behaving themselves. And luckily CSF found it hilarious when I acted out my little adventure for her the next morning.
In other news, I think we're going to try to hit all the old favorites and eat out as much as possible. Aww yeah! Tonight will be either Thai or Italian. We may need to save the Italian place with great wine until after she files. Mmm!
Wow! your friend really really hates cats, doesn't she?
You're a good friend, because I would tell my friends to suck it up and deal!
I love the image of the cat stretching like taffy! Oh, god, too funny and too true!
I've observed the cat-stretching-like-taffy phenomenon for years and years, but it was only til this post that I had the proper, nay perfect, metaphor for it. Kudos!
That reminded me that a couple of years ago I stayed with a friend of mine for a couple of days. We shared her huge bed, and in the middle of the night I woke up, wondering how loud she snored - but it was her tiny kitten that had decided to fall asleep next to me ear. So cute! I wish I could have taken it home with me.
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