if sanity were fat...

It occurred to me a few minutes ago that I may be losing it (I trust you all are too sophisticated to take any cheap shots there; that would be too easy and I expect better of my readership-- intellectually if not socially). Oh, and "it," unfortunately, is not weight. Every time I step on the fancy digital scale at the gym (gym at work: $23/month; no kids in sight: priceless) it adds a pound, which you would think would be physically impossible. I'm not sure what's going on (apart from girl scout season... and other stuff... whatever it is, it has to stop). But I digress.

I caught myself thinking, as I said to Gracie, "look you little $hit, this is not how I want to be spending my time either so shut the f* up and sit still," 'this is going to be even harder when she figures out that Monday is kitty hygiene night and starts to hide when it's time to brush her teeth.' So no, it's not the talking to my cat that signals the losing of the it that is not weight; it's that I was under the impression, albeit for a few seconds, that she keeps track of days of the week.

I also gave her some undue credit yesterday, thought "what a good girl for not being a whiny little bi&ch long before her dinnertime-- because she does know dinnertime and breakfast time, although it doesn't stop her from whining her powerful lungs off beforehand as an attempt to break mommy into feeding her early. Anyway, I thought it was sweet that she was being patient. And then I realized she was an hour off because of Daylight Savings Time.

Now before some of you obese-furball-huggers out there start feeling sorry for Gracie, let me make clear that the amount/intensity/timing of whining has nothing to do with hunger, because she can whine up a storm when she still has dry food in her dish. It's a power thing, and she needs to understand that she is not the alpha female in this household.