Wow. I've been serious lately. What in the hell is up with that? Once upon a time I was pretty darned funny. Now I'm actually thinking about stuff and commenting on it like I know what in the hell I'm talking about.
So not cool.
I discovered today why this blog is called *Elf killing and other hobbies.* It's because I have a cat named Elf. Elf is normally pretty cool. He's the runt from the litter before last that I bottlefed and who sat on my lap pretty much the whole time I wrote Asphodel. Now, he's a little bit bigger...okay, too big, to do that so he complains a lot.
Or gets even.
Today, he got even in a big way. He pulled my new laptop bag out of the allegedly cat-proof closet, dragged all my paperwork out of it (thank god the laptop was otherwise occupied at the time) and curled up in it. Then he went to sleep.
No problem, right?
Wrong. The kitten decided that playing with my papers was fun. The best place to launch herself upon said papers was from the top of the laptop bag. Then, she could skid across the floor and do it all over again. Elf took exception to being used as a springboard. With an unearthly howl, he leaps out of the laptop bag, swats the kitten across the room , takes the strap of the bag in his mouth and runs for his favorite hiding place.
The bathtub.
I was running bath water.
SPLASH! Cat, laptop bag, what few papers I had left in it, cough drops, medicine, house keys, and money all end up in five inches of warm, lavender scented water.
Thanks a lot, cat.
