I had to take mine to the vet yesterday for the rest of their shots. Of course, they played 'poor, tortured kitty' the whole way there and back - in fact, one of them was doing a Bea Arthur-esque yowl. It freaked me out. (I'm guessing the Bea wannabe was Daphne, as poor Zoe still can't meow. She can only manage a really pathetic squeak.)
Because I'm a sucker and felt bad they were jabbed with a needle, I decided to let them roam free last night when I was trying to sleep. We were drama-free for awhile and I was almost asleep. Suddenly, I heard a 'whoosh' and felt nails on my scalp. Zoe decided my head was a big toy that she needed to attack. It freaked me out! I removed her from my head and tried to go back to sleep. I was once again almost asleep when 'whoosh' ... she attacked my elbow!
At this point, I'd had enough. No more kittens in my bedroom until they develop daytime playtimes!
So I found out what Mr. How to Lose a Guy in 5 (7?) Days wanted. He thought I'd help him find a job at my company since he lost his job. I'm officially banishing jobless, homeless, 38-year-old divorced men with 2-year-olds from my dating pool. (He kind of had a home, but he lived with his friend and his friend's wife. Like Dupree. And Corey Haim.) Please tell me what I was thinking!
I finally sent him a few job postings because I'm, again, a sucker for a sob story. Now he's pestering me to look up the managers for those positions and send him their contact information. Why would I do all this work for some guy who really wasn't even that nice to me? I'm not going to do it. Is that bad?