Cocoa's morning started off pretty much the same way as it usually does, with the exception of my jolt to the cleaners before work because I'se stale out of pants (get it?).
So...after waking at 5a, COMPLETELY against my will (it was the feline's fault...more on her later), I jumped out of bed at 6:42a and started the morning's mad dash...
A bit of basic arithmetic says that if I had to board the #2 at 730a, then a girly had a mere 48 minutes until takeoff. Yet, a bit of reality says that I spent at least 15 of said minutes (nearly 1/3 of my time) tending to an unthankful and hifalutin Miss Alexa L.V. (Lenox-Verd, not Louis Vuitton, people!). For the confused of you, Miss Alexa L.V. is my slave-mammy of a kitten.
She is always unthankful; turns on me in the blink of an eye; only wants to see me when I'm presenting her with a meal, and always has me fearful of a serious LASHING should I EVAH! piss her off. Our relationship spans only two weeks and yet I feel as though I've been Kizzying her behind for centuries. So, per usual, I cleaned her Playkitty-mansion of sorts litter box; poured fresh litter; swept her area in the living room (b/c Lord knows I didn't have time enough to sweep the ENTIRE apartment); gave her some fresh food; unearthed her toys and presented them for her tri-daily once-over at...that is, until I leave the room, after which time she will actually play with them.
With a 33 minutes until zero, I hopped in the shower; put on some lotion; "combed" my hair and zipped over to the cleaners at about 712a. As I'm dressing, the cat that usually goes out of her way to ignore me HAS THE NERVE! to kick her little ball with a bell down the long hallway toward me.
An indignant I does nothing. "Put the other leg in the slack..."
This time she noses the ball a bit further down the hall, closer to me.
A stank ho I does nothing. "Hmph, heifer wants to play now...after hissing me for the past 15 days...where's my damn socks??"
She makes another move with the ball and this time lays down to just stare at me.
Being the old softy that I am, I decided that if the cat was trying to play nice, that I could take a few tens of seconds to play nice, too. With that realization, I pulled on my socks and happily, yet quietly tipped-toed toward her area...
"hiiiissssssssss!!" And, with that, she was gone.
Flippin, F$CKING, fargan A! I am so tired of this sh!t! I rescued this chick off the streets and all I get are flippin' hisses EVERY TIME I try to approach her. Ya'll better call PETA, the humane society, Kitty Kind or who the f%ck every, now! I am this close to putting her ass back on the street. Do you know that she woke me up this morning because she was playing with those flippin' balls with the little bells inside?!?!?!? Yes, I did buy them for her, but I regret it to no end, because my ready-for-work-the-night-before routine now consists of searching for four of these balls and nearly suffering an anxiety attack because I can only find 2 out of four. YET, she knows where the flip the other two are located!!! She hides them from me b/c she knows that I'm taking them for the night! And, I should be able to do so: It's MY damn apartment and I don't want to wake up three times each night to repossess her loud ASS toys!
Okay, I need some caffeine. Be back in a little bit...