OK, as promised, I will now divulge the funny but, erm, not so funny pet story. It's Thursday morning. And I'm enjoying doing up my eyes with the new blue eyeliner I got a while back (I know, the excitement of my life approaches astounding levels). I'm admiring my straight lines when Mark yelps from the other room. Or maybe he just yelled "Argh" in true piratey fashion. The memory is beginning to fade. At any rate, I have to ask what happened. You just don't ignore either a yelp or piratey bellow that comes from somewhere in your own apartment. In an angry but oddly defeated voice, Mark yells, "The cats pissed on my bookbag!" At first I'm shocked. Any litterbox accidents are usually committed on a particularly clean and convenient spot of carpet. Then I remembered that we were a bit out of sorts Monday night, the usual Litterbox night. So I asked Mark if he had been able to clean the litterboxes this week. And he said no. This was when I started to laugh. Because it seemed that either or both kitties had decided to exact a little revenge on the man who had neglected their restrooms. I tried to stay my amusement after Mark informed me that the cats had urinated on the notes he needed for the paper he was writing for his class. My attempts met with varying levels of success. The least successful attempts, unfortunately, always occurred when I saw Mark that morning. I would move into the living room to look at the paper, see Mark, and giggle. I just couldn't help it. I did eventually tease a chuckle out of Mark, so I figured everything was good. Until he came home that night and proceeded to eye both Addy and Nosey with a suspicious gaze. I even began to wonder if he would take the kitties aside one by one and interrogate them, using Python's Spanish Inquisition tactics (which the cats would, of course, never expect). But this tale does have a happy ending. The (hehe) soiled notes have been copied (alas, the happy ending does not extend to the Xerox machine involved in said duplication), Mark has realized the felines are not talking, and the litterboxes are clean.
In other news, I was hoping to do a little worldbuilding today. I still may, but I'm dragging my feet. Which surprises me. I came up with some good ideas last weekend. Maybe it's just being tired and feeling a little down. Actually, I'm feeling pretty powerless about some work issues. Which, of course, I can't talk about until they are officially announced. Suffice to say, I may be looking for another job so I don't have to put up with the crap. But I really don't want to, because then I'd start trying to find a job using my degree, and I really don't want to do that. And Mark wants me to stay put so I can write as well (I still find it amazing that he can, without trying, remind me almost on a daily basis why I love him and why I married him). So more on that probably next week.