he managed to trap Jayne in the boat a few days ago, and Jayne was fine with this until he realized he couldn't actually escape by playing the humans-poke-the-side-and-I-pounce-on-it-to-killkillkill game. at that point he started his pitiful oh-crap-I'm-going-to-the-vet-and-I'm-trapped mews. The Boy then released him.
Fast forward to tonight. I'm getting rid of the last of the Craig Ferguson shows left on the DVR and trying to finish this FEMA shit without breaking down in tears of the famed "oh my god really?" sort (don't worry, you'll see what I mean in a second.). I'm mostly tuning out the thuds, scrambles, clinks, and other various and sundry sounds that indicate the cats are in the middle of crazy time, and they're busily trying to kill each other. I hear a particularly worrisome thud, and see that the little flag at the top of the boat is no longer visible behind the couch. Not a big deal, they knock it over all the time.
but suddenly....it's quiet. Too quiet. ledere senses tingling! and at this point I hear a "...mew." I peer around the couch, and Jayne has managed to trap himself in the boat. so I grab the photo. No. I grab the camera, for to take photos. (sigh. see what you make me do, FEMA?)
Don't worry, I released The Kitteh from his jail after taking the pictures.
Anyway, so this FEMA crap I'm slogging through, for The Job, is a set of online courses and exams that you take to certify that you are a) not brain dead and b) speak governmentese. Why is this depressing? this screenshot:

...
...
...nevermind.
er....look!
The Stole is done!
No comments:
Post a Comment