Tales From the Nuthouse

Sadly, I've come to the conclusion that everyone that resides in our apartment is, um, "touched." Let's start with the cat.

Phoebe (our cat) is either obsessive and paranoid or way to smart for me to figure her out. Anytime that we have to put medicine on her food, she realizes what we've done and proceeds to paw out individual pieces from her bowl onto the floor, sniff to make sure that one's okay, then eats it off the floor. Repeat process. She never gets the ones that have the stuff on them. Yesterday I woke up and went to feed her where I noticed that she had eaten exactly half of her food. Not half amount-wise, but all of the food in the right side of the bowl was eaten while the left side hadn't been touched. It was a perfect line of Purina down the middle of the bowl. Somebody explain this to me. Also, anytime anyone lays face down on the floor, bed, couch, etc. she has to lay on their butt. My cat prefers asses. She is an ass cat. (If I don't get at least one Google hit on the phrase "ass cat" I'm going to be sorely disappointed.)

On to the humans:

Sam has this really cute habit of being obsessively perfect on a project to the point of neglecting all other duties (work, sleep, food) until it's done (I know you're reading this, need I bring up the watch incident of last spring?). Really, it's very charming. And now, apparently, I've picked up this adorable little quirk. I spent the better part of 6 hours yesterday working on what should have been a small 30 minute ordeal when I had other actual grad school responsibilities I should have been attending to. I can't afford this kind of time to non-school activities! And I knew this, I just couldn't stop myself! I didn't used to be like this. I blame this completely on Sam.

There are other things, I just have to get to work now. Lord knows, I don't need to get side-tracked by blogging all day and not do anything else. Again.