again already

I don't know when this blog became a tool for tracking how often Ratty Catty would decide to pee in inappropriate locations, but apparently this is the only thing that inspires me to click "New Post." So today the bed was his victim, again. I think I minimized the damage by catching him mid stream. I only had to remove two covers to contain the spillage. Of course it was a mighty chilly morning with rain and such outside, and these were two damn fine covers which I missed dearly, but whatever. Actually, come to think of it, the whole bed still feels contaminated by association, but I have just been so fricking house lazy I can't even begin to think about doing all that much laundry. Maybe if I had bought a stackable washer and dryer when the landlady put in the mini laundry room upstairs, maybe then I'd do recreational loads. But for now, all laundry, peed on or otherwise, must be paraded down the outside stairs and brought into the original laundry room.

Ugh.

And then he just went about his morning like everything was fine and perfectly normal. He even let me pick him up right after. So I put him in the newly-reintroduced litter box. He seemed perplexed. I've got to remember to add dirt, as I know he likes to pee on dirt. My brother suggested I put some sheets in there, maybe a Barbie and some pillows. Very funny. Ha ha. At least yesterday I got myself a bit of belly when Ratty was feeling especially safe (hanging with the Monkey). It didn't last long, and, come to think of it, maybe this is why I had pee in my bed today, but, well, I couldn't help myself.

Sometimes I wonder, "Just when did I become the crazy cat lady?" And then I remember, it was May 3rd, when I chopped Ratty's nuts off and officially made him part of the family.

Whatever.

Mostly, being the crazy cat lady I am, I am not even upset about the most recent insult to the sanctity of my sleep. Today I am upset because I am impatient and all spun up about some possible big law school news on the horizon. I am so spun up, in fact, about this bird in the bush, that my Berkeley in the hand has begun to feel like a consolation prize. And the big purple envelope in the mail from NYU - this should have been exciting, too, and instead I set it aside to continue to watch the phone not ringing for me.

The trouble is, I had convinced myself I wasn't going to hear back from the Law School in the Bush until January. At the soonest. If they decide they don't like me I won't know until April. But they have been flirting. And thus, I figure it's a month tops before they declare their love for me. So I had managed my expectations and disappointment Friday afternoon, when I figured the admissions office went on vacation like the rest of the school. That all went out the window today when my invisible friends on the internet started crowing about their acceptance phone calls. Then I got all excited anew.

And then the phone rang. But it was just my brother. Calling with the helpful Barbie bedding advice.

Now I am left to wonder, are the fine folks at Law School in the Bush working tomorrow as well? Even if they are, I suspect I will not get my call because surely they are in cahoots with the universe and the universe is clearly trying to teach me patience. Why else would I always choose the wrong check out line? Why else would I always miss on dock rescues if I don't wait for my team to arrive? Why else would I be so fricking fat from falling for immediate gratification practically every single time? Patience, fat grasshopper, patience.

And with that I am off to the gym to sweat away this angst. I have just enough time to get my cardio in. It will burn off about the same amount of calories I plan to drink tonight.

perspective

This morning I woke up to find all three cat fishes snuggling me in my bed. Monkey and OC were sharing Erik's side. Ratty was purring at my feet. Immediately I thought, "Crap. I really don't want to do all that laundry again." But I figured he hadn't peed on me yet, at least, cuz he usually pees and bails (unlike his buddy Monkey who seems to prefer to sleep in the smell of his own urine...). So I tempted the fates and made a move to pet him.

I pet and he purred for, I kid you not, twenty full minutes. It was magical. It annoyed OC, who was receiving leftover distracted pets from my spare hand. It displaced Monkey, who was edged out by an obsessively affectionate Ratty. And then it all ended when I moved in for the belly rub. I was reminded (by a scratch and a bite) that stray cat belly is still off limits. This was fine with me as it was really time to bring a close to all this madness before something got peed on.

Well, as it turns out, something was already peed on. My kitchen floor. My foot found the puddle on the way to the recycle bin. Thanks, foot. I'm not complaining, though, cuz I will take floor over bed any time. Much easier to clean and besides, I was due a morning shower anyway.

So yes, I am writing to report that I am pleased with my cat's inappropriate urination. More proof that I truly am the crazy cat lady.

gross

So, I know I should have something to say for myself. Six weeks without posting, though, and most likely there's no one reading any more anyway. I do have an excuse, sort of. Essentially I've been holding my cyber breath as I wait for news back from law schools. Maybe I'm trying not to jinx anything. Maybe I'm just consumed by the cycle and unable to find something newsworthy in my daily life. Maybe I was just looking for a reason to take a break, as I have been a particularly lazy and uninspired blogger this year.

Whatever the case, I've been able to exhale considerably since being accepted to Berkeley Law this week. Yup. I don't have to live in the snow unless I really really want to. Life is good.

But what's so gross, you ask?

Well, remember that Tootsie Roll commercial with the little boy and the owl? The one where the boy asks, "How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?" Substitute the word "weeks" for "licks" and "Ratty Catty" for "to the Tootsie Roll center" and "to pee on your bed" for "of a Tootsie Pop" and you have the same answer the owl gave. One, two, three.

Yeah, I may be smart enough to study at Boalt Hall, but I am not smarter than a stray cat. He's been enjoying the run of the house since Thanksgiving and every night has been a gamble. The sad part is he's only been brave enough to get on the bed in the past few days. So really, you might say it takes only three days for him to pee on your bed, or my bed as you will, but it takes him three weeks to get up the courage. Ugh. I wonder if this means we'll be on lock down again? If so, the other kitties will not be pleased. The open door policy has been popular with them.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to convince the kitties that the attic and the laundry room are the coolest places to hang out. Unfortunately they are rather popular locations in the local rodent circles. Erik doesn't believe me, but twice in the past week I have woken up to hear the scritch scratching of little feet in the ceiling above my head. OC heard them too, so I know I am not crazy, but he doesn't make the best witness. At least my hubby has to believe me about the mice in the laundry room. Their droppings are proof positive. Anyway, I am too embarrassed to ask my landlady, who knows I have three cats, to hire a rodent exterminator. And, though I know they end up dead either way, I'd much rather have the mice die at the hands of my felines than in a snap trap. And I'm sure as hell not going to stick them to glue traps and drown them in a bucket. Thanks, Mom, for that indelible image in my brain. Mostly I am hoping that the mere presence of cats will suggest they should move on as the mice have seemed smart enough to avoid our actual living space. Lord knows there's been enough cat pee around to broadcast the dangers to any semi-intelligent rodent.

Which brings me to the silver lining in this morning's rude wake up call. While the bed sits and waits its turn (as it's inevitably a three load process), the stench of it will be suggesting to the laundry room mice that they should maybe think about clearing out. Either that or it will just give them a good chuckle, as even mice are smart enough not to pee where they sleep.

Well, I guess I'd better get started. Last time Ratty Catty peed on the bed Erik was talking feral cat colony. I know he won't believe that I changed the sheets at 5 am just to be sweet, but at least he'll have a clean place to fall asleep and dream of the life he could've had if he hadn't married the crazy cat lady.