One last sleep

One last night to enjoy the peace. The quiet. The solitude. The solemnness. The emptiness. The loneliness. The knowing that I'm ALL ALONE (outside of a few pets who shall remain nameless interrupters of the dead quiet of 3am) (looking at you Moxxie, Moe, Croaker, Hisser, Ghost and Screech!) in this big ole house. I hates it. When I call them they're too busy to talk and sometimes so busy I feel like a bother. When we do get to talk they're so one-track-minded, that one track full of news and stuff from back home, that when I'm talking they cut me off and never seem to notice.

Won't lie. That sucks.

Wonderboy has taken to chilling with a few friends in the next town over for the last week or two. He did come by one day to wash clothes. He even mopped my dining room for me. Then he was gone. Not even the lure of a freshly baked pizza from Casey's could bring him back. So I had frozen egg rolls for dinner after thinking about that pizza all day. (He'd said he was coming home this afternoon so I figured I'd buy us a pizza. Oh wells.)

When Mike gets in tomorrow night he'll sleep and then head back out Sunday morning? Not sure if it's morning or afternoon but if it's afternoon, he's already got a list of what he wants to do while here. I was hoping he'd be here for a day or so so I could actually spend time with him. Sucks much. At least Babygirl will be here, though, she's so caught up with talking to her boyfriend I haven't factored hardly at ALL the last couple of weeks.

Wanna hear how mean I am? Mike's sister and her kids were planning on coming in for Christmas. I'd prefer a visit like that be over Thanksgiving but that's just me. Anyway, he asked if that was ok. Surely he knew I couldn't say no to him ... I told him, though, that if she corrected me even one time I'd snap on her ass and ruin everyone's day. I meant it, too. She's a very sweet person but ... she knows it all and she's done it all. Best. She has no qualms whatsoever pointing out the error of my ways. It's almost as maddening as when Mike's dad would rearrange my kitchen cabinets overnight. Come to think of it, both her and their dad felt it was their duty to correct you. Anyway, I don't think she means any harm but I don't think I could take it. Even once. Gracious hostess I am not. Plans have changed now and they aren't coming. Probably a good thing. Teresa is way too stressed, really.

Speaking of mean, the cats and I have waged war. Sorta. They've (again!!!) decided they don't like their cat food and I've (again!!!) decided they'll eat it if they're hungry enough. Moe is getting to me, however. I think he's thinking he's human now and will come talk to me. In one syllable 'meows' until he realizes it's not that I don't hear him more than it's that I'm ignoring them. Then he won't freaking shut UP! As soon as I look towards him he takes off running to his food bowl, as if he's communicated his desire for a new cat food to mysterious appear and fill up his bowl and the doofus actually thinks I'm going to make that happen. If I said that right. When it doesn't happen, he comes to talk to me again. (ARG) We've been doing this for a week straight now and it's right gotten on my last nerve. They'll eat their food but not after trying to guilt me into a trip to Wal-Mart to buy different food. And they have stamina like I've never seen. The guilt trips last HOURS! I asked them yesterday if they could just all do it at the same time, like when Moe's working his. They didn't listen.

I might feel sorry for them enough to mix a little tinned food with their kibble if they didn't line up to mark the litter box every SINGLE day as I'm cleaning it.

And then there's Moxxie. O. M. G. If a pillow has a zipper on it, she unzips it and then starts removing the stuffing by the mouthful. I suppose I should be glad she's not just eating the pillows like Bella did, but seriously. STOP THAT! When I realized she knew how to work a zipper I thought (out loud, cause I'm dumb) 'omg that's freaking cool!'. Just smack me. Really. This evening Nugget broke bad on her in a way that made the hair on my spine stand up. And it hit my gut it was so vicious. All because he wanted to be the one to eat baby Jesus. Not kidding. Moxxie grabbed the little baby Jesus from the coffee table and started to chew on it. He. Went. Off! Like a maddog! He scared her and she dropped it. He grabbed it and ran to a corner and would break bad on her when she approached. He bit me when I took it from him, too. He's four years old and I've never heard him go off on anything like that before. Dumb dog.

Something tells me his belief system does not include praising Jesus. In the slightest.

Oh, a couple of twitter buddies have a baby girl who broke their xbox360 disk tray tonight. Reminded me of the time Bear fed the VCR peanut butter toast and a spoon (because of course the VCR would want to eat the toast with a spoon) and then a VCR tape and left us without the ability to watch any of our movies for a few weeks. Had to laugh at the memory but figured I should refrain from posting it. They probably wouldn't find it funny right about now. I miss those times. Always a house full. Never thought I'd say I miss a house full as they used to just drive me crazy all the time!

One more sleep and I'll be a different kind of crazy again. Woot!