Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Grad School Ate My Life

Dear Grad School,
I know that no school wants to get a letter like this, but I've been a little concerned about your health. As a good friend, I cannot just let this go. Grad School, your looking a little, well, obese.
I didn't say anything when you were eating up hours out of my weekdays. I mean, that was understandable and even welcome. You were so emaciated before, you needed to eat something. Up to eight hours a day, five days a week is a healthy diet. But, Grad School, things have started to get a little out of control.
First you started eating up my weeknights as well. Then you started in on the weekends. First just nibbling around the edges, but more recently swallowing them whole before I can even get them out of the oven.
Sure, I was noticing you were looking a little bloated, but I chalked it up to just retaining water or an adjustment period. I figured once things go settled you would slim down to a nice healthy weight.
Instead your appetite grew. Weekdays, school nights, weekends, free-time. You just snacked your way through my week. When was the last time I exercised, washed the dishes or cleaned the bathroom? You get to them before I can and keep packing on the pounds.
I think it is time for an intervention. Grad School, you need to go on a diet. How about we start small? You cut back on your between week snacking and do a little portion controlling during the week and I'll let you keep all those weekday hours and even an occasional between week snack when necessary.
Sound like a deal? Please circle yes or no.

Love,
Sara

Friday, October 1, 2010

Smack

Smack the Killer

I love our cat, Smack, but he hates sleeping humans.

At first it was pouncing. You try sleeping with a cat jumping on and gnawing your feet every time you move them under the covers.

Next it was the door attack. When we couldn't take the pouncing any longer, we would lock him out of the bedroom at night. So he took running at full speed down the long hallway, launching himself at the top of the door and then scratching he claws all the way down to the floor. Rinse, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat...... Once, in a sleep deprived stupor Cale got up and zipped him into a duffel bag.

"What did you do with the cat?" I sleepily mumble.
"I put him in a bag," Cale replies.
"You can't put him in a bag, he might suffocate. Let the cat out of the bag," I explain (enjoying the ability to use that cliche for real).

Then he learned how to flip light switches, leading us to believe intruders were in the house in the middle of the night.

Next it was the standing on the bed at 4 in the morning (remember I was working at newspapers and not getting home until after midnight) and screaming about being inside when he could be outside and why don't we let him outside?

When we moved to Samoa and left Smack in Indy with friends we felt guilty, but we looked forward to sleeping. Unfortunately we quickly discovered that roosters and Samoans also hate sleep.

Now that we are back and Smack has been living with us again he's been acting out in new ways. The stress of the move and being reunited with his family irritated his bladder (apparently this is a normal thing) and he took to peeing all over the house. Hooray. He also got in fights with the neighbor cats and required medical attention for a black eye. These problems might not seem like sleep-hate, but they are. Since Smack was ill and on medication, the vet recommended keeping him in the house. However, he was also refusing to pee in his litter box because he associated it with pain. If we didn't let him outside when he demanded he would pee on our things. So once again it is the 4am cat demanding to go outside.

With all these sleep-hate activities, last night took the cake. We had let him out and left the cat door open and crawled back into bed. We had barely had the chance to fall back to sleep when there were strange noises. It sounded like another animal was in the house. My first thought was that Smack had brought another cat back in with him or a small dog. Cale got up and could see in the gloom that Smack had deposited something on the rug just outside our bedroom. Cale turned on the light and with the audience he wanted finally paying attention Smack bit the head off the bird he had captured and proudly brought home with him.

Thanks Smack. Just what we need, 5am bird carcass cleanup.

Smack the Killer

— Sara