that cat

The cat's been on a roll these last few days.

Sunday morning just before six o'clock, in the midst of our deluge, I woke up to her perched on the windowsill next to the bed caterwauling at the top of her lungs into the vent of the not-even-turned-on air conditioner, apparently undone by the noise of the rain on the metal outside.

Last night at half past one she had a run-in with a full glass of water on the night table, sending glass and water and ice cube remnants crashing to the floor and under the bed. I jumped out of bed, heart racing, and promptly stepped on broken glass and started shrieking as she tore around the room yowling like a crazy thing.  (I guess we both were yowling like crazy things by that point.)

So the next twenty minutes were spent looking for band aids and crawling around the floor, armed with paper towels and collecting dust bunnies and bruises from the underside of the bed, salvaging cardboard boxes full of nothing but crap from college anyway.

Needless to say, this all makes for a sore-footed and rather cranky Emma on what otherwise is a beautiful Wednesday morning.