Cranky Britches Continued

Scene, Yesterday:

Arms loaded with laundry -- sack on my back. Elevators open on my floor, and two fat, fluffy cats race by the opening doors -- looking, to me, like deranged rodents. These are same cats who meow incessantly at each other during the day (luckily can only hear them in the hallway, not from in the apartment).

They dare me to exit the elevator and seem to threaten getting on with me. I flip out and hit the close door, letting the elevator sink. Trying to decide what to do. These house cats aren't anything to be afraid of, but I've let myself become frightened and worked up.

Do I tell the doorman and ask him to send someone up to remove the cats or speak to the cat lady who lets them roam in the hall? Or to give me a broom so I can sweep them out of my way as I get into my apartment?

It seems stupid to make an even bigger deal of it, plus my laundry is getting heavy ... so I pull up my big girl panties and hit "8."

The cats race by again when the doors open -- seemingly just to freak me out. I yell into the open door of the cat lady apartment, matching her crazy for crazy, "Not cool. UNCOOL. I really don't like this." as I make my way into my apartment around the corner.

When I go out for a drug store run (I don't like to be low on TP) the cats are back in their apartments, but I still feel agitated.

Bring on the party kid neighbors at LSU! (I'll eat those words in a few months, I'm sure...stay tuned.)

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