Feeling: bemused
Listening to: Morrissey - He Cried
Reading/Watching: The Mousetrap, by Agatha Christie

So yesterday, I did something stupid. I finally let myself play around with the three-week-old kittens that Satan and Persephone have (surely I mentioned the stray they took in a few months ago who turned out to be carrying some... stow-aways?). There are four kittens, and they want to give them to good homes, and they know mon coeur and I would definitely provide a good home, if not for that pesky career-ending-allergy thing.

Since my first doctor's appointment was canceled on Friday (when they called to reschedule it for three weeks from now, I literally stormed around the living room cursing and crying), I am thus even further from finding out if it is possible for me to own a cat, with some kind of prescription medication (since singers know that taking Benadryl daily is almost worse than the allergies themselves). And while I am still planning on getting health insurance through my bookstore job, so the military isn't our only hope, it was definitely the best-coverage hope. Going to an allergist on regular civilian health plans will probably still cost us a couple hundred dollars. We couldn't afford that a month ago, and now, post-X-box, we definitely can't.

But, as if they knew that their future ownership hung in the balance, the kittens were all cuddly and cute, and although three of them meeped piteously (as if I was torturing them) when I picked them up, the fourth looked at me curiously, totally silent, and when I set her down she started licking my jeans.

After that, of course, I had to pick her back up and hold her in my hands, from which she climbed onto my shirt, and down into my lap, where she made herself a little warm corner and snuggled, peeking out over my thigh every once in a while to check and make sure her mama was still nearby. My. heart. melted.

And she knew. That damn little weensy kitten with her three-week-old cognitive powers just knew that I probably couldn't keep her, so she looked me in the face with her unnaturally blue eyes and her little pug nose and made me fall in love with her. Damn cat.

Then, when I was having a hell of a time concentrating at work tonight (girlytime. yay.), I came home tired and slightly punky-feeling. Mon coeur got up when I walked in the door, and kissed me hello.

Normally, my entrance barely registers on his X-box radar, and he will glance at me or smile, and continue with his game. This time, I got a full sixty nonverbal seconds of his time (it was not your average kiss). He asked me how work was, and hugged me, and then went back to his game.

Amazing, how the little things can make such a difference. Like when he used to get home early, and I would hear him come in, and come racing down the hall and dive into his arms, simply from the joy of seeing him one hour ahead of schedule. Ridiculous, but true. And he loved every bit of it.

It's as if he knew I'd been needing it. I was just having a conversation with Bork about feeling slightly ignored, but knowing it was a temporary glitch, and then as soon as I see my husband again, it's like he had heard everything we said. (I'm spoiled. I got very, very used to being the most important part of his life. It's hard being upstaged by a game console, but as Lala pointed out, if it wasn't that, it'd be football, or work, or crappy TV, or beer with the buddies.)

So yeah. People and tinytiny kittens seem to be reading my thoughts lately. It's kinda creepy. Stop it.

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