This weekend had the potential for disaster. I’m going through something horrible, something that I will not get into, but is tearing my heart apart, and this past weekend could have been two days of moping and crying and misery, but in a gift handwrapped from the gods, Laroux74 and ElleVee descended upon the apartment on Friday and were here all weekend, making me laugh and feeding me lasagna and staving off the misery for a few days of “let’s pretend nothing is going on” and it worked pretty well, mostly because my friends are amazing and teach me very valuable lessons about loving myself. I only hope all y’all have your own Laroux74s and ElleVees, because we all need girl friends like them. Is imperative.
Less adorable and more heart-attack inducing was a little adventure involving the orange menace, or “Finn” as some people call him, and how he almost burnt his fool head off. Lemme splain.
The cats have this…thing. About the kitchen counter. Specifically, they want to be on the counter, all the time, especially Toby, who will stare daggers at the faucet in the sink for HOURS, just waiting, waiting so patiently for the magic to happen. Oh yes, if he just waits long enough the water will come out and then let’s have a parade, because the WATER IS ON YOU GUYS OMG it’s the most exciting thing ever. But Finn has other fish to fry when he’s strolling around where the food lives, which could not BE less sanitary, and I cannot tell you how much time I spend depositing cats on the floor, tossing cats on the floor, THROWING cats on the floor and I have to sleep sometimes, you guys and that’s of course when the cats immediately ignore the counter, where they’ve been trying to get on all day and hog the bed instead. No, in fact I CAN’T win.
Finn (sorry for the tangent) enjoys the stove. The stove is A PLUS for Finn, and he would just spend the whole day with his tail swishing around the burners, oh so close to the pilot light and oh so close to being ginger kitty flambe and giving me several heart attacks all before noon. Well Mr. Man learned his lesson (at least for about half an hour) this weekend when Laroux74 was making me lasagna. Do your friends come to your house and make you lasagna? I told you, my friends are tops, man.
So Laroux was busy making lasagna and Messrs. Finn and Toby were of course on the counter, Tobes at the sink, with endless hope that the water would come on, and Finn meandering next to the stove. Do you see where this is going?
Yeah, I hear a yell from the kitchen, and Finn comes hurdling into the front room and hides under the coffee table as Laroux stomps in from the kitchen all “IS HE ON FIRE” and I’m all “WHAT?!?!??!” and yes, it seems that Phineas had poked his stupid little ginger face too close to a burning FLAME on the STOVE just as Laroux had turned away for a split second, and it was only through her NINJA LIKE REFLEXES that she was able to smack him away from the burner before he went up like a Roman candle.
The idiot singed off some whiskers, though, and since we were all rattled to the core because of this little stunt, Finn spent the rest of the night being poked and prodded and cuddled and lectured to about fire safety until he was all “MOOOOOOM LEAVE ME ALOOOOONE” and he still has a little whisker that’s all burnt and curled up to remind me that hi, my cat almost caught fire, and if you were wondering if Laroux74 is actually a superhero, let me assure you that she is, case in point: making lasagna and rescuing my cat from certain doom AT THE SAME TIME. She’s pretty amazing. She also has three cats of her own, so this is nothing for her. All in a day’s work. Amazing.
So that’s the weekend. Now it’s back to reality, and I’m…less than thrilled about that, but I will soldier on, as I always do, and if anyone has any suggestions about keeping cats off the goddamn counter (water pistols and tin foil don’t work, tried them both several times) I’d be thrilled to hear them.