The kitty in the laundry, part 2

Your task from Friday: given the photo of the kitty in the laundry, determine both a) the name of the cat in the laundry and b) whether the laundry was dirty or clean.

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The kitty in the laundry

In the midst of the seriousness that is normally, I present a thoroughly silly and amuzing pop quiz. Examine this photo carefully: the kitty in the laundry

Your question: based on the tail in the picture, please identify the name of the cat, and whether the laundry is dirty or clean.

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Margaritas by the chaise longue

A note for those of you who have written to me recently: I think my subconscious is starting to kick in. I deleted a swath of what I THOUGHT was unnecessary email from my comments @ folder, and as a result I managed to delete a few actual emails that need replies. If you don't hear from me, that's why.

Two down. Seventeen to go. (You know, I'm going to look really stupid if it turns out I have to write more than seventeen pages for this admin interface, what with my decision to do a public countdown and all. Virtually guarantees I'm going to fall flat on my face.)

I'm still flush from my victory dance, having checked off the "edit your options" page not ten minutes ago. The way I have permissions set up virtually dictates that I have three separate pages devoted to the editing of authors. One is for the normal user, who does not have permission to edit all authors. The "edit your options" page contains rather innocuous bits for updating, including things like homepages and IM accounts and passwords and password-retrieval bits. The other two are for the power user—a person who has the power to edit the accounts of others. First, they'll have to be presented with a list of all authors, and then they'll have to be able to select a single author to edit.That secondary editing page will be a lot like the page I wrote today, except it will contain toggles for permissions.

Ah, but that's for later.

See, what you don't realize is that you should be impressed that I actually managed to get anything done at all. Why, you ask?

kitty one-upsmanship

Hello, and welcome to the fifteenth edition of My Kitties Are Cuter Than Yours! I'm domesticat, and I'll be your host tonight. In this edition of the show we'll explore the general silliness that abounds when two thoroughly spoiled rotten felines (total combined weight: 29 pounds) have to be sedated in time for their yearly vet visit.

Common side effects of feline sedation:

  • inability to jump from the floor to the couch
  • inability to walk without falling over
  • crossed eyes
  • extreme lethargy
  • complete limpness when picked up by favorite human
  • inability to lie down gracefully ("thump!" was heard a lot)
  • inability to meow properly ("meh?" and "sque….." were heard a lot)

Exhibit A: Before Sedation

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Grace, deux

Well, after a thoroughly harrowing and frustrating day, I believe I am now prepared to offer some silly and thoroughly obvious conclusions about my day:

  1. My finger is not broken.
  2. Kitties on tranquilizers are funny.
  3. I still hate eye exams.
  4. Bifocal lenses are spendy.

So, let's skip all the boring stuff and go right to what you want to hear about. You know it, baby—more about the "I got up to get some ice cream and all I got was this jammed finger" story.

You know what's really bizarre? My left middle finger has swollen up enough so that it's actually larger around than my thumb. It's fascinating, in a bizarrely morbid sort of way. It's bruising around the joint a bit, and I have about 25% of normal range-of-motion. But you know what the weirdest thing of all is?

(Of course you don't; that's why you read domesticat. That, and because reading my words makes you feel so utterly normal.)

Brother, can you spare a white cane?

So. Righty-roo. The rest of this week is shaping up to be a series of potentially-classic days; the kind that give you endless amounts of material to write about.

The plan: go by the vet's tomorrow. Pick up sedatives for darling kitties, numbers one and two. It's time for their yearly rabies shots, and given the fang-and-claw showcase that was last year's vaccinations, I think it's safe to say that I'm not bringing the little darlings within ten feet of a needle without giving them some serious happy drugs.

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