Thank God...

....that this shitastic week is almost over. It started out crappy enough--I woke up early Monday morning feeling quite ill. The first part of the day was spent lying on my bathroom floor while Lin licked my forehead and Charlie repeatedly climbed onto my stomach. Okay, Charles? When I'm feeling like I'm about to lose the contents of said stomach, don't bounce on top of me. Furthermore, if YOU'RE going to get sick, don't hop up on the couch to do it. My apartment is all hard-wood floors. The kitchen and bathroom have easy-to-clean tile. Even the paltry little rug under the table would be a better place to get sick than on the ONE couch cushion that I plant myself on every evening.

I let that incident slide, however. The hairballs have been bad, and the cat food I served you sunday just might have been a little off. I took the precautionary measure of putting your favorite dumping ground, the papason cushion, into my closet, thus rendering it useless (both the closest and the chair).

However, the next day, shortly after I had cleaned the litter, I noticed a wet spot. Again, on my cushion. Great.

And now, NOW I sit down on the couch and think to myself, "This has been a long week. Haaaaated this week. And why the hell is my leg wet?"

SOMEONE IS GOING BACK TO JUVIE AND IT'S NOT LIN CAUSE SHE'S 98. Playtime in the big apartment is over, little man.