Everybody Loves a Monkey

*****Already a shitty day***** Just so you know, this will be the SECOND time I type this because my stupid flippin wrist guards pressed something on the stupid keyboard that made what I typed... disafuckingpear. Nice.

So outside of getting in the tiff wiht my boss yesterday, it was just an all around crappy day and I blame it on sensitive pregnancy hormones being pushed to the limit. I'm damn tired of numb fingers. So my night went like this...

• Talked to a girlfriend on my cell in the parking lot of the grocery store. THis was a good part of the night because I just adore her and miss her. We talked about poop. And other things.
• Shopped for stuff to make meatloaf. I went to this particular grocery store becasue I knew they'd have the stuff I needed. They did for the meatloaf but what was important? The cookies I thought they'd have....but didn't. :( [it's here that I start feeling that this bad day has followed me home] So I had to run off to another grocery store.
  
• Came home, started cooking dinner... and while this was cooking... I picked up my cat Zoe, who I absfreakinglootly adore and she had an "accident" on my shirt. Nice. She gets nervous. I can't really blame her or be mad at her but I was. She never used to be this nervous throwing up poopy cat that she is now. It wasn't until we moved into this house. It makes me so sad. So up I go to change my shirt, cursing all the way becasue I know, no matter how much I clean, smells are forever burned into my nose so there's no getting rid of that. Nice. [starting to "melt down" at this point]
  
• Check her butt to make sure she's not carrying around more ammo. Nada.
  
• She then throws up on the floor...during dinner. [I think to myself, what did I do to deserve this day?] I figure it's in the other room, I'll clean it up after we finish eating. - It's at this point that I tell Babe that I don't know how much longer I can handle this. My life is all about shit and puke and cat feces. I don't know how much more I can take this. I'm going to have a baby. My life will then consist of cat feces and baby poop. I'm okay with the baby poop but ONE of the damn cats... (I'm convinced it's Puma) pees on anything you leave on the floor in the basement. There are TWO cat boxes... NO need to pee on clothes, towels, blankets, whatever... NO REASON!, but I digress...
  
• Half way through dinner, Zoe jumps up on the couch by Babe...and she STINKS. So bad that he pushes her away from him and I can smell it too. [ start total meltdown]
• Time to lock the cats in the basement. I walk towards her and she goes right into the basement as if she knows I want her there. I just love that cat. Then there's Puma... he runs.
• And runs.
• And runs.
• And runs.
• And there's me, 8 1/2 months pregnant, chasing this stupid fucking cat around the house, trying to catch him so he can be in the basement with their food, water and cat boxes with Zoe. [absolute meltdown mode]
• He runs upstairs
• He runs downstairs
• It's at this point that I warn Babe that he better help me catch this fucking cat or if I have to continue this nonsense, I may kill him once I catch him.
• He does... but the cat still runs upstairs and hides in H's closet. I catch him only to find that SOMEONE FUCKING SHIT IN THE CLOSET.
  
• ABSOLUTE MELTDOWN AT THIS POINT.
• THROW THE CAT IN THE BASEMENT. Tell Babe, I have to now go clean up more shit.
• Clean up mess in H's closet... and begin to cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry... I can't do it anymore. Go downstairs, cry on Babe for a bit. Tell him I don't think I can do this anymore. He said that he would help me fix the problem. Insinuating that he'd help me get rid of the cats. I don't think I can get rid of Zoe. She's my girl. I love her. But I'm afraid he's right... I'm afraid I may have to find new homes for the cats. It absolutely breaks my heart to think this way and I WILL NOT get rid of my girl to someone I don't know...
  
• Eat a cookie. Feel a tiny bit better. But not really. Cookie is good.

So for now, the cats are still locked in the the basement. It's not a bad place for them since half of it is finished and that's where all their "stuff" is, but I'd bet it's only a matter of time before Puma starts peeing on things and all hell breaks loose.

I feel bad, but I can't help but blame Puma for most of everything that has happened. Never have I dealt with any of this stuff until he came around and what is truly killing me is that I'm the one that talked Babe into letting H get one for her birthday. So this is all my fault.

Today's day isn't any better so far. Traffic blew, I slept like crap, I feel like crap, my wrists are starting to hurt and I'm about to throw my flipping radio through the window because of some stupid flipping Wendy's commercial they keep playing over and over and over and over...

I'm such a crabby bitch today. NOT A good day.