So this last weekend I spent being sick and cleaning.  Yes, I am still sick.  My sister is convinced I have Bronchitis and she is probably right but I refuse to take an entire day off of work to just go and listen to my doctor say “you have Bronchitis.  Drink lots of fluids.”  I already know this.  And Keem refuses to go to the Minute Clinic because, as she says, it’s more like the 60 Minutes Clinic.  Keem is not a very patient person, especially when she is waiting for me.  I am muddling through, occasionally pausing to hack up a lung.  Other than that, though, I feel fine.

On the cleaning front, once a year our apartment complex has an annual fire inspection.  Representatives from the fire department tromp through the different apartments to discover which ones of us have stacks of old newspapers from 40 years ago cluttering up our homes.  They do not take kindly to seeing rooms where you have a path from the door to your bed.  And the only way you can get to the computer is if you climb over the bed.  That, apparently, is a fire hazard.  So I cleaned.  And cleaned some more.  And threw a lot of crap away.  And brought some books to the laundry room.  And did 400 loads of laundry (okay, 4, but it still seems like a lot).  And actually found the floor to my bedroom.  Believe me when I tell you this is a small miracle.  I am not the world’s tidiest person.

Keem and I come home yesterday, wanting to see if we passed the inspection with flying colors.  We find a note from the maintenance guy (not sure which one, I didn’t read the note).  It goes something like this:

Hey.  Your thermostat in the living room and master bedroom are frozen and not adjusting.  It’s good that we figured this out since you wouldn’t get any AC this summer if it wasn’t fixed.  I’ve done a work order to have this taken care of and have put on the work order to watch out for the cats.

You know what this means.  Uh-oh.  I must be gay!*

*Sorry, random “In and Out” reference to Howard’s brother, Walter.  Who, by the way, is in an Applebee’s commercial and I am always very excited to see it and say “Look!  It’s Walter!”  Fortunately both Beth and Keem have recognized him as well and do not think I am insane.  Much.

Anyway, what this means is Kalli loves to escape whenever she gets the chance and run into the hallway.  Eddy will at least only escape when it’s Keem or I.  But Kalli is constantly waiting for her opportunity to make a run for it.  Or, you know, sit on a random delivery man’s shoe and sniff his pants as though he was the greatest smelling thing ever (turns out he has cats as well).

I can imagine what happened yesterday.  Kalli heard the key turning and raced to the door, probably encouraging Eddy to follow her.  The door opens and a small streak of grey lightning races out into the hallway.  The larger, not as fast, orange pumpkin boy follows her.  The maintenance guys probably sit there and wonder “What happened?”  The idea of them having to herd kitties makes me laugh.  It’s always an experience.

Kalli got out again last night, which is why I didn’t see the note right away.  Our neighbor saw her running around the hallway, shouting “Catch me!  Hahaha!  I’m faster than you!  Oh, wait, I’ll walk reallllllllllly sllllllooooooow in front of you!  But no!  I’m too fast!” in kitty language (Mew.  MEEEEEEEEW.  Mew.  Mewmewmewmew).  The last time he had seen her, she was in the carrier, doing her patented barrell rolls in protest of going to the vet.

Kindly Old Neighbor:  How is she doing after her ordeal?
DM:  She’s good.  She started leaping around two days after it.  You know, like she hadn’t just had major surgery.

This is directed to Kalli who, like usual, ignores me to tell the Kindly Old Neighbor that we never feed her and she is horribly neglected and what a horrible life she leads.

KON:  Well, she seems to be back to her usual self.

That’s my girl.   Loud, obnoxious, an escape artist and known for her antics (the first time the Kindly Old Neighbor met Kalli was when she decided to go running around his apartment when they left the door open).  Sigh.  I’m going to have to get a sign made that says “Beware of Cat.  She may not bite you (unless you move your feet in the middle of the night) but she will meow you to death.”

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