Bad Ideas and Cat Fights

Last night, because Jason Fischer is a bad influence, I wrote out the notes for a Blaxploitation-esque story set in the 70’s version of the Miriam Aster universe. I then put it away because I realised there’s absolutely no way of writing it without being horribly offensive or utterly driven by pastiche.

Such are the dangers of not having any deadlines looming, major or minor. Fortunately there are days when I stop myself before doing stupid things and today seems to be one of them. The notes go deep into the “write this when you can afford to get punched in the face” file, at least until Jason lives up to his threat to kidnap me and go all Kathy Bates until I write the damn thing (if anyone hears about Jason acquiring a pet pig, please let me know).

In other news, there are twenty-four days remaining before I am free of cats. Or, more specifically, the cat, since there are two felines in the house and I only really have issues with one of them.

See, as a general rule, I kinda like cats because they embody the essence of cool. They are aloof and self-contained and are quite willing to put up with having their belly scratched because I’m the person who lays out food. They make me work for their attention and I can respect that, because generally I’m self-involved enough that I only really want to pay attention to other living things on my own terms*. One of the cats I’m house-sitting is a totally chilled dude in this respect; he’s very low-maintenance and doesn’t much care what I do as long as he gets fed. He also seems to grasp that when I’m asleep I’m not really up for a) playing, b) serving as a hot water bottle, and c) getting up to feed him.

The other cat is…needy. We do not co-habitate well, especially since he doesn’t seem to grasp that I don’t particularly want to play when I’m sitting at the laptop. Nor am I particularly enthused when he digs claws in after jumping on my stomach, largely because I develop a rash whenever he breaks the skin. He doesn’t seem to understand that clawing at my bottom lip while I’m sleeping is going to result in a very grumpy human, not that I’m not fond of having things sit in my lap that aren’t in possession of RAM chips and a wireless internet connection.

Today I’m trying to convince the mad cat that sacraficing crickets at my feet will not endear him too me. I seem to be losing this battle. Ordinarily these are minor irritations, but after seven days of antihistamines I’m starting to get a little grumpy with it all.

*this here, btw, is the reason I make a terrible friend, housemate, boyfriend and employee. 🙂