Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me.

I hate cats. Hate them. I have four of them. I've written about it many times: here and here and here and here (*giggle*)

The other night we were all hanging out in our TV room and the back door was open. Suddenly I look down and there's a new cat in the room with us! Child 2 is thrilled, to say the least. He named her Jelly Bean, and for a few hours she walked around our house like she fucking owned the place. She ate the cat food, she drank the cat water, she shed on the cat/kid clothes; she liked it here. Okay, I may have been a little drunk at the time and it's possible that I slightly encouraged her, but that's not the point right now.

It's a good thing these things happen to me, otherwise what would I blog about?

A few hours later, when we were going to bed, hubs had to pick her up and throw her out the back door, and then close the door so she would stay outside. I wasn't sure if she would maybe figure out how to get back in through the cat door, but it seemed okay; we haven't seen her since.

Can you imagine if we had 5 cats? *shudder*

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