~ I'm convinced my dad is a lot of times frustrating just for the sake of being frustrating, like he gets some joy out of over complicating things because he can see how much I loath it, and how my eyes glaze over when he starts into some stupid explanation of what he wants to do, how he wants to do it, and why.

~ I'm tired, but I'm not feeling unwell ... I'm just not feeling well either.  I'm in that limbo area 'sick, but just not AS sick'.  Hoping I feel even better in the morning when I return to work.

~ Why is it that men so naturally do something good, or impressive, that makes you happy with them and as soon as you think 'Wow, that's really awesome, I'm happy.' they do something stupid to mess it all up and make you forget that you were happy about something they did?  Hard wiring?  Lack of wiring?

~ I am at least glad that I got a lot of cleaning done today, AND I even slept in this morning.  Score for me!

~ I tell you, it's hell having a smart animal.

This one I've got to expand a little.  All right, if you've seen pictures of him, it's no secret that Yellow Kitty is a lard ass.  He loves to eat.  His stomach owns him.  I can't leave his food bowl available all day because I don't like leaving our bedroom door closed all the time (it either makes the room freezing cold, scorching hot, or I have to deal with pissy cats because they've been 'locked up' all day).  I can't just leave it wide open without putting the partition up to keep my two cats from getting to the rest of the house.  Sick Kitty can jump the partition, but he's not allowed to eat the regular cat food, so I have to pick up the bowls and hide them.

When I close the door and let Yellow Kitty have his food bowl back, he's ravenously hungry even if it's only been an hour since he last ate.  So the little shit head scarfs food down too fast, and then gets sick everywhere.  That gets old ... and gross ... real fast.  To slow him down, I put a tennis ball in his bowl to eat around so he'll have to slow down.  That worked for a while, until YK decided he was sick of that damn ball and needed to get rid of it.  Shoving it with his face didn't quite do the trick, but knocking it out with his paw sure does!  I thought it was a fluke the first time it happened because I did not see the paw action, just that the ball was out of the bowl.

Tonight I watched the little shit.  He took his paw, got under the ball and popped it right out.  So now I'm back to the drawing board.  Just putting him on a schedule won't work, because at that rate, I'd have to feed him every half hour, which just won't pan out.  I can't feed him less because it's not the quantity he's eating, it's the speed at which he's eating it.  So yeah, I've got to think of another way to slow his little porky ass down.  Something that'll take him a while to figure out how to work around.  Little shit.

~ Either my MIL hasn't been paying attention, or she's got a very short term memory, because she actually asked us if we had any money she could borrow if she loses her job and needs to make a car payment.  Did she forget my husband will be unemployed in January and we for sure know it?  Did she already forget we bought a car this weekend?  Did she forget that my hours are slowly shrinking away?  Did she forget the fact that we're always broke anyway?

~ That's all for now, the night time cold medicine says so, because it doesn't want me to think anymore, it wants me to feel tired.  But ... but ... I don't feel done!