In Which I Am a Launch Pad for Evil

A few housekeeping things. And then a story. And maybe a picture. Maybe. You’ll have to be patient and wait.

First of all, I’ve added DISQUS to the commenting section so that I can reply directly to particular comments. And really, I think it’s just a better way to have a discussion, which is something I really want on this site. So, if you try to comment and encounter a problem, please contact me and I’ll use my limited blogging skills (and extensive Googling skills) to try to fix it. Or if you think of a way for me to improve the discussion abilities of this blog, let me know.

Second of all, there seems to be an increase in traffic to my blog. Or my stat counter is way off. Either way, if you’re new (and you're not like me), please see my About tab and The Rules to get to know me a little. And don’t be scared of the rules; they’re more for me than they are for you.

And now, a story.

But first, to fully understand the scope and breadth of the situation, you’ll need to read about Satan’s Cat. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

Are you informed now? Are you afraid yet? Because you should be. If you’re not, this story may be the tipping point. You see, detrimentalbeauty said to be careful, because Satan’s Cat may try to lull me into a false sense of security. And I glibly replied that I thought she would win no matter what I did. Boy, was I right, but also so very wrong…

You see, the last few nights have been relatively easy. She’s been a little spastic when I first lock her in and she was opposed to me reading my book aloud to her (I thought she might like to share…), but she’s generally settled in nicely and I haven’t tossed and turned enough to bring on her fury. Furry fury… Ha! I am so easily amused. Except that NO—I am not amused by this story. Readjusting my angry eyebrows now. Alright, so the last few nights have been easier. Because she was lulling me. She is a sneaky luller. She was just waiting until she could pounce (possibly quite literally) with full surprise. And last night, she did.

After bothering me to get under the covers, then between the sheet and the electric blanket, then between the electric blanket and the comforter, she commenced running around like a banshee. I turned out the lights, hoping to signal her that it was time to calm down. She settled sweetly near my shoulder and we went to sleep. A few hours later, she woke me up with a horrendous amount of noise. She was trying to get at a toy that had slid under the treadmill (CRAP! I never checked the treadmill for damage…). Still mostly sleeping, I rolled out of bed, retrieved the toy, chucked it across the room to eliminate the danger of needing to do this again, and yelled “Are you KIDDING me with this?” before slipping back under the covers already asleep again. A half hour later, she woke me again, bashing into every piece of furniture in the room in an effort to chase this toy. I yelled ineffectively from my pillow and fell back to sleep for about 6.5 seconds.

This time, she was army crawling under the bed. On her back. With her claws sunk into the box spring. She was doing laps in this ridiculously destructive and noisy manner as if it was her daily work out. I smacked the side of the bed and shouted a garbled string of nothing. The noise ceased so quickly, I almost thought I had dreamt it. Then she popped out from under the bed looking far too angelic to be an actual angel. I went back to sleep thinking about what a skinned cat would look like. Apparently, she was having similar thoughts. About my face.

Yes. At 5:15 this morning, two hours before I needed to get out of bed, Satan’s Cat used my face as a launch pad in the pursuit of evil deeds.

I woke up swinging and swearing. And I think I managed to thump her on the forehead before she went skittering across the room looking affronted. Because HOW DARE I DEFEND MYSELF? I felt my face, couldn’t find blood, but was pretty sure it was coming. And then I decided that I didn’t care if I got blood on Sister’s pillow (since it’s her damn cat anyway), so I placed my weary head back down for another hour. As I drifted off, I mumbled threats about cat soup.

She followed me around the whole morning, crying at me. At first, I thought she could sense my rage and was trying to cozy up to me. But then I remembered that she’s probably trying to tempt me into Hades with secret messages from her fiery master. So I alternated between ignoring her and shouting “SHUT UP!” while forgetting to put on make up. Did you know that baggy eyelids and a sallow complexion is not helped by the lack of make-up or scars of evilness? Because they aren't.

Anyway, I had to trick Satan's Cat into the bedroom to lock her up before left for work (sporting my very apparent battle wound), but I didn’t feel moved by her plaintive cries. Not one bit. In fact, I’m tempted to leave her there all evening, too. But then again, I’m really only punishing myself, since the longer she’s locked up, the more time she’s had to plot her evil schemes. Tonight, I’m probably going to sleep with a hockey mask on or something…. Does anyone have any chain mail they can lend me?

[Oh, and: Let’s all pretend that I have a defined jaw line and flawless (except the gash) skin, mmmk? Thanks! Also, this is probably the most you’re ever going to see of my face. So enjoy it (?) while it lasts…]