I got the alarm clock of the century this morning: my cat Jack standing on my chest with a plastic sandwich baggy over his head. Yeah. I think my heart stopped. And then I realized, he was still breathing, albeit very heavily, and there was condensation in the baggy. I ripped it off and looked in the baggy and found remnants of a hamburger. My first thought was, “Oh my GOD, he ate TWO HAMBURGERS?!” Then I remembered that the baggy was empty when I left it on the counter and just had crumbs in it. But this is besides the point. Jack had nearly suffocated himself, all for a taste of beef. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you … my cat.
Le sigh. Like my mom said, at least he knew to come to me for help. Something was clearly not right in the world of Jack so I’m glad he recognizes I could help him. But this isn’t his first case of “the mischief.” The other morning I put him in the sun porch and latched the door because he was running all over my bed in the early morning and I couldn’t sleep. About an hour later, I felt padded paws walking on my bed again and I open my eyes and low and behold, Jack was looking me square in the eye. If we could talk it would have gone something like this:
Jack: HAI MOM!
me: whaaaaaaaaa?? howww??
Jack: I’M MAGIC MOM!
My mom says this is karma for all my ornery escapades as a child. The parallel events are kind of eerie. Though I never once woke my mother with a plastic baggy over my head, I did escape from my crib when I was about two. My mom was in the bathroom and I climbed out of the crib and knocked on the bathroom door. My mom opened it and was all like, “What are YOU doing here?” and I was all like, “I’M MAGIC MOMMY!” So you see, I’ve had this coming for a while now.
I really need to get a scanner and post some pictures of me as a baby. I mean, I just looked ornery. There is not a single baby picture of me where I don’t look like I’m up to something. Karma’s a bitch.
NBA Draft as last night. Wizards got Wall, Heyward went to Utah. Truly the only snippets I caught because I was busy pulling my hair out as the Pirates LOST TO THE RANGERS IN THE BOTTOM OF THE NINTH. Kill me. Just kill me. It wouldn’t be so bad if the Pirates didn’t offer occasional glimmers of hope that make you feel all “Hey! These guys can do great things! They’re really gonna turn it around!” Like McCutchen’s ability to outrun a baseball and make stellar catches in the outfield. Or Karsten’s 5K night! Woooo! And then they remember they haven’t struck even in 20 years and give up a run in the bottom of the ninth and make you cry yourself to sleep.
What happens, as does every time, we get someone great, give them a chance to look amazing next to our less than stellar lineup and then they get traded for bo-coo bucks and what do we do? Use that money to get three SUPPOSEDLY WILL-BE AMAZING boys from the minors. And then we’re back to square one. McCutchen and Jones will be gone in a year, mark my words.
Today is brought to you by the NHL Draft which starts tonight. WOO!