Kittens, coffee mills, martinis and heart attacks...

I actually posted this over the weekend on my other blog. It isn't that this blog (and you) aren't important. I've just been busy. So I'm re-posting out of shear laziness. Deal with it, fool. For your patience, I'll post double tomorrow. Just you wait!

It's been one of those weeks. At about noon on Saturday I had already experienced a tantrum, several meetings, cleaned up gross trash and poured my heart into the life of a fuzzy terror.

Let's start at the beginning. On Saturday, BOYFRIEND and I bought a rescue kitten from the Huron Valley Humane Society. She is 5 months and 16 days old, and she is of the gray tiger variety. She is as cute as can be, but never take anything at face value. What that basically means is that this kitten is trouble, as most all kittens are. She climbs. She runs circles around the apartment. She paws at fingers and toes.

That night was our first experience sleeping with our new kitten, which is now named Rhea. I woke up several times in the middle of the night to make sure she was still alive. I had baby heart attacks each time. She's still tiny, mind you, and I was afraid I would roll over on her and suffocate her. I imagine that in reality, rolling over on a cat would probably be something you couldn't miss... something that would wake me up. But still. I worry. Needless to say, I poked her awake several times to make sure she was still breathing, and eventually she left the bed for its underside for some peace and quiet. I got no sleep.

Then the next day began. She ate. She did her "business." She drank some water. Time to play. I spent the better part of the morning trying to tire her out because I had scheduled office hours in Manchester's Coffee Mill from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. Chris works that day, so this would be her first experience "alone" in her new home. The trick is, how do I make sure she doesn't destroy my apartment while I'm gone? I make her exhausted, that's how! Easier said than done. She has the energy of a Red Bull and she never quits. Then she decided she isn't allowed on the kitchen counter. Great. Basically I was a half hour late trying to get her in her "room" so I could go to work free of worry. I'm sorry to the few people that patiently waited for my arrival.

Oooooo, also! Also! On Friday evening I attended the Ann Arbor Artini bar crawl with my boss-boss, Michelle Rogers.... and her friends, who happen to be the parents of Ryan Michaels, our 12-year-old movie critic. I managed to keep to myself that I disagree with a lot of his Ebertesque movie reviews, but that is neither here nor there. It was a fun little experience, and I managed to consume alcohol with my boss without totally embarrassing myself. That's not necessarily an easy thing to do when the event you are attending requires that you consume at least five martinis. At least! And obviously I have no choice in the matter, because we wouldn't want me voting on the "best martini" without being able to make an educated guess! That would be a travesty! So I said alright, if I absolutely have to I will consume these five brilliant beverages and somehow remain standing.

So that was basically my weekend. More to come, obviously, with another kitty-witty on the way... and a much larger one than that. Plus there is always that chance that I could still walk in to see a devastated apartment. Behave yourself, Rhea. Do it for mom.

I know I'm about two weeks late on linkspam, but that's because all my linkspam so far has been Twilight and Robert Pattinson related, and I figured I'd spare you. I'm collecting and filing and will post soon if proper news presents itself.