Earthquake

I almost gave James up for adoption last night. Never in the world did I think a cat could reach the volume level of sonic without, I don't know, former lab experimentation done on him, or special equipment, like a little speaker strapped to his back and a megaphone taped to the speaker so that it's not only being amplified, it's also being obnoxiously blasted out through a horn-like thing. I swear to god it sounded like he had picked up my tv last night and was throwing it against the window to create an elaborate, destructive escape.

But then we had an earthquake and he crawled under my arm for safety.

Fine, be cute. See if I care!

(two seconds later) Oh my gosh you're so cute are you ok?! I don't care that you just broke two vases in one fell swoop and I had to clean up broken glass at 3:30am, I just want you to feel safe!!!

So, I'm blaming his crazy on the impending earthquake, and the fact that he was just trying to warn me that we needed to flee to safety. How can I be mad when he wants to cuddle?!(sidenote: this is why girls end up with d.b.'s - 'But when he's sweet he's just so sweet!'. Kourtney Kardashian, I'm talking to you.)

And I took about one point five seconds to start to complain about being tired before remembering that my cousin has been in labor for the past twenty-four hours with no pain medication whatsoever. Compared to her I got nothing. Compared to a full day of trying to birth a human, I should be grateful my cat was just a little antsy, and not trying to claw his way out of my v&%#na.

Because that - that totally would have been grounds for putting him up for adoption.