Not another book review

I don't mean that in the "Not Another Teen Movie" kind of way, where I'm going to brilliantly lambast all other book reviews and also show gross old ladies making out.  I mean that I was going to write about The Mahabharata today, but I still have about 40 pages left, and even though that's less than 10% of the book, I thought I should maybe finish it first and make sure more important and exciting things don't happen in the end that I wind up not writing about because I haven't read them, etcetera.

Anyway, instead I will tell you about my cats, because everyone loves a good cat story.  So, I have the Fat Cat:

Look how huge he is.  He knows he's fat and he's proud of it.  And I have the Neurotic Cat:

Here he is chewing on his paw because he's upset that Houseboy is not cuddling with him.

Anyway, these two psychos kept Houseboy and I up most of the night on Monday night, particularly Neurotic Cat, who likes to jump up on the bed, run around the edge of it and scream at us.  This is all fine and good because every once in awhile it's good for you to not sleep because it keeps you on your toes and makes you more acutely aware of how much everything sucks.

But then last night, after I fell asleep at 8pm with my face down in a cheese sandwich, they started up again.  Apparently they had all day to rest up for insanity and they were not going to waste good night time on sleeping.  The Neurotic Cat ran around and around making a barking noise until Houseboy put him in the cat carrier, whereupon he sat quietly for 10 minutes and then started yelling again.  Houseboy started spraying him with water and shaking the carrier, at which point I decided maybe it was time for me to step in.  

I sent Houseboy to sleep in the tv room and locked Neurotic Cat in the study with his litter box.  But then of course Fat Cat had to weigh in, and spent the next 20 minutes scratching wildly at the outside of the study door.  I figured he missed his big brother, so I finally shut them in there together.  This was not good enough of course.  Fat Cat then scratched wildly at the door from the inside, 10 minutes on, 10 minutes off, for about an hour.  Every time he scratched I got up and sprayed him with water under the door, which just made him realize that someone was really out there, so he started smacking the doorknob with all his considerable weight and Neurotic Cat started yelling.  At this point the noises were something like one of those asylums for children in the early 20th century, where they soaked kids in water and then locked them alone in rooms for days and days.  There was weeping and gnashing of teeth, in other words.

Around 1 am I got the inspired idea to take the fleece blanket that my sister made for me and drape it on the inside of the study door, making it impossible for Fat Cat to scratch it.  This bought a good 4 hours of sleep, until he finally figured out how to get behind the blanket and started up again.  

So, here I am at work, going on about 8 hours of sleep over the last two days, unable to drink coffee and so weeping just a little at the delicious taste of my Assam black tea.

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