X-Files Would Have Been Better With an OMD Soundtrack

On my way out the door this  morning I noticed three unopened cans of Natty Light on the coffee table.  It was a bit unsettling.  Like they had infiltrated the house while I was sleeping, and had the audacity to set up shop right out in the open where I'd be sure to find them.  When I got home, they had moved in to the fridge.  Since I only visit the fridge a couple of times a day, I felt better about them being in there.  To be clear, I am not thrilled they are here, but I am learning to accept this lot in life.

Have I complained yet about the crazy old lady on the fifth floor who I have to deal with once a day when I check the mail?  She's totally senile, and everyone is just waiting for her to retire.  Which is sad.  If I am totally batshit out of my mind, will you please just fire me so I don't have to suffer the indignity of being that lady?  She's one of those people who if her name comes up, everyone rolls their eyes and sighs.  She happily tells you how she will only use the bathroom on other floors, and asks if you do that, too.  See, crazy. 

The past two times I have seen her, I have been wearing a dress, and both times she started to get up out of her chair, saying, "Oh, I gotta look at that leg!"  And each time, I back away quickly out of the suite saying, "No. NO. No no!"  I do it with a smile, but seriously?  How creepy is that?  What is her plan when she gets to my leg?  Is she going to grasp and caress it?  Sometimes she'll say, "Does that go ALL THE WAY UP?"  Every time I tell her yes, but she still asks me and then threatens to come out from behind her desk to get a close-up look of gam.  This is why Twit really needs to hold up her end and check the mail more often.  She probably likes to be accosted by crazy old insane ladies.  She does like a good intimate chat.

Talked with Frijole tonight.  She had a startling epiphany where she realized we have known each other a decade.  We decided we must throw a celebratory party--acknowledging that it may be just her and me at the party.  We're totally cool with that.  She's so awesome, and I am so happy we found each other. 

How does Mulder know exactly where the horn connection is under the hood of the car?  If my horn wouldn't stop honking (say, due to an accident), I couldn't just pop the lid and yank on a wire to disconnect the horn.  Mulder really knows his shit in the first season of X-Files.  Scully just screams a lot and pants heavily.  Not that I mind so much.  She's pretty hot--even in those frumpy suits with the shoulder pads and the jackets that go down to mid-thigh.  I'm now thinking how cool it would have been if they asked OMD if they could use their early music as the soundtrack to the episodes.

This morning, The Boy got up to a littler garter snake in the hallway.  It was probably 7"-8" and miraculously not mauled by any of the five cats (especially those kittens who really want to take little piranha bites out of everything).

How he got in to the hallway is a bit puzzling.  He is now living out his days outside where he belongs.

When I got home this afternoon, I went to change clothes and this is what I found on the bed:

Doesn't that just make you ooze squee out your pores?  It is just wonderful to walk in on the kittens embracing.  I hope it happens more often.

Then you have P2 helping The Boy play Super Mario Bros. Galaxy 2:

Mattress had some heartburn after eating all those kitten sausages, and went for some antacid:

P1 just played it cool:

 These kittens are just making life so much more fun.  And not just for me--I'm pretty sure deep down inside the adult chickenmonkeys, they are happier, too.  There's a friend of mine from high school (thank you FB!) who is suffering today.  My heart aches for her loss of Belly, who was almost as old as the Orange Lover.  These are cats who we grew up with, cried with, snuggled with, told all our most cringe-worthy secrets too.  We have both lost a very dear friend, and a part of our life to these little friends.  I really wish I could be in Tennessee to give her hugs and to cry with her over our losses.  Also, she has the best way of thinking of pet death--they have gone off to school.  Indeed they have.