Then, he bit me. Hard. There are little kitty fang marks in my leg. In one fluid motion, I kicked him across the room and sat up, just in time to hear the garbage truck driving away. Crap. I forgot to put the garbage on the curb again.

I looked at George. "Why didn't you pull that little stunt even 10 minutes earlier? A dog would have bitten me in time to get the garbage out." I thought about that for a minute. "Well, you know what I mean. Fuck you, cat."

***

So, I'm awake. Kind of. There are actually a few things I could be doing right now. I could do the dishes. I could clean the library a little. This whole computer area is a little scary, and don't even get me started on what the bookshelves look like. I could write a journal entry. Oh, wait. I'm doing that.

After work, I will clean up in here, and then my whole apartment will actually look fairly decent. KC rules, by the way.

My plan was that this would be the week I cleaned. If I did a little bit every night after work, it wouldn't suck too badly, and I would no longer be living in filth by, say, Thursday. Sunday night, KC was randomly over, and although I told her she didn't have to help, she said she was in a cleaning mood. With KC's help, I got the living room and the kitchen and the bathroom practically spotless. She even mopped the kitchen floor for me. I love her.

If you see her today, give her a hug for me. I did actually hug her, but I just don't think one person can give out all the hugs she deserves for this. Dude. My kitchen floor was just plain disturbing. Besides, it amuses me, to think of KC getting random hugs all day long today. Oh, and if in your travels, you happen to run across my cat, bite him.

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