Bring On Monday. Please.

Highlights of my weekend:

Had a migraine on Saturday afternoon. Enough said.

Pulled a cat turd off Fletcher's butt that was stuck in his fur. DON'T LIKE READING ABOUT IT? IMAGINE HAVING TO PULL IT OFF!

Made beef stroganoff for the college boy. Seemingly used every pot, pan and utensil in the kitchen, then had to wash them all, dozens and dozens of them. DOZENS, I tell you.

Also seems I have a bit of a habit of using the wrong size pot, pan, bowl, etc. And by wrong sized, I don't mean too big. I may underestimate volumes just a wee little bit. Might account for the dozens and dozens of dirty dishes I had to wash.

Baby Ruby has been given run of the house during the day, and she immediately put the big boys' catfood on her radar, which is not agreeing with her kitten tummy. Some not-very-pretty things ensued.

Why won't Sarah Palin just go away?

As I vacuumed the rugs in my room, the vacuum cleaner started smelling like it was about to burst into flame, so I had to turn it off, unplug it, and perform exploratory surgery. Diagnosis was what appeared to be about five pounds of long hair wrapped around both the beater bar and the motor pulley (that's the roller brushy thingy and the little posty thingy that the drive belt loops around, for those of you who don't want to Google it).

Killed 137 wasps in the living room. Or maybe it was more like 5, but it SEEMS like more when you're chasing one around with the fly swatter, trying to smack it before the kitten climbs the curtains to get it. Did I mention I had a migraine?

Went to Aldi to get groceries (along with about half of the town - why did I wait until Saturday afternoon to get groceries?) and their debit card machine wasn't working, which meant I was able to buy $17 worth of groceries, because that's all the cash I had, and thus limiting me to essentials necessary for beef stroganoff: noodles, broth, sour cream, mushrooms, roasted red pepper hummus (that last one might have been just a little something for the chef...). And before you ask, I already had beef in the freezer.

There is civil unrest in my house over the naming of Ruby. I say the one who scoops the litter box, feeds and waters them, cleans up the kitty barf, and PICKS POOP OFF THE KITTY BUTTS gets the final say in the naming of the cat. End of story. 

Sorry to see the weekend over so soon? Not. Me. Bring on Monday.

A Kitchen Mystery and Proof That My Cats Are Dumb Like Foxes

For your Monday reading enjoyment, a mystery and a musing:

The Mystery

Why is there a knife missing from my kitchen knife block, where is it and who put it there?

It's a Chicago Cutlery knife with maybe a 7" blade. It's been gone for months, but, naturally, NO ONE knows where it is. I have checked every drawer in the kitchen, thinking someone put it away in the wrong place (which is a joke, really, since I'm the only one who ever actually puts stuff away in the kitchen). I looked behind the stove, although it would have been quite a fete to have gotten it back there. No knife. WHERE THE HELL IS IT?  It was my favorite one, next to my completely awesome Wusthof one. 

The Musing

My cats eat from a continuous feeder, so it's a 24/7 kitty buffet around here (which explains Pete). All is copacetic until the silo part of the feeder (the cow analogy is not lost on me here) starts to get low. When this happens, the dish doesn't fill. I don't understand why it doesn't, gravity being what it is, but it doesn't and that's that. It is a simple matter to force the food to fall into the dish by (a) gently giving the reservoir a shake (if you have opposable thumbs) or (b) sticking a paw into the opening, WHERE YOU CAN SEE THE FOOD HOVERING, causing the food to dislodge and fill the dish (for those of us with paws and half a brain). 

Then there's the third option: act like cutting horses and herd me into the kitchen to the empty bowl, sit beside it with pitiful kitteh eyes, and throw in a mournful yowl or two. Don't help yourself by poking it with a paw (and this is doable, because my previous cat did it, and she was no rocket scientist genius fool).  They just stare at me when I say, 'STICK YOUR STUPID FOOT IN THERE AND GET IT YOURSELF, YOU MORONS!"

And then I give in and shake the food down.

And, smugly, they dine.