|Current mood:|| uncomfortable|
|Current music:||The thinking of my computer|
Wait. . . . what time is it again?
Oh yeah. That's right. It's TEN until THREE in the fucking MORNING. "But *why*," you ask "are you UP this late?" Well, I will tell you. Because my cute little kittie has been biting me. How cute. Makes me want to hurl. All over your mom. Ugh.
Molly (...= name of kitty) decided a couple of weeks ago (a month? Who knows) that she wanted to be petted when I was going to bed. Karen too. No, Karen didn't want to be petted. Molly wanted Karen to pet her too. Anyway. So I oblige, thinking that maybe she will have pity on my and, you know, *sleep* some of the time. Not so. Oh, sooo not so. Molly decides that I don't pet her enough? I need to let her out, but *still* pet her? *I don't know.* Either way, she's not satisfied with what I'm doing, so she starts biting. This is no ordinary biting, though. She imbeds her teeth into the soft, fleshy (I'm-working-on-it-in-the-gym-REALLY) under part of the arm with which you could probably lift off and jet with the birds. As if that didn't hurt enough, she PULLS the skin, with said embedded teeth, out and up. Yes. OUCH.
Needless to say, I want to go back to bed, but I'm afraid that all the sleep that I got earlier is PREVENTING me from doing that. And I thought I would be doing myself a favor by going to sleep early. Yeesh. What good that did me.
Alright. ::crrssshhhh:: ten four ::crrsssshhhhh::