… are Guy’s mournful meows.

… you also don’t know how much of a fight it took to get Tippy into the cage. She saw that thing with the door open and was like, “You’ll never take me alive!” I finally had to drag her out from under the futon, and there was a considerable amount of hissing, scratching, and biting involved.

I was a bit worried when I heard Brendan Gleeson had been cast as Mad Eyed Moody because, well, everytime I see him in a film I picture him as Hamish Campbell.

Then I surfed over to Ain’t-It-Cool-News today before showering, packing up the cats, and bombing my apartment. (I’m off to do that in a moment, never fear).

I don’t think I’ll be picturing him as Hamish no more, here’s hoping Draco Malfoy’s “ferret bouncing” scene makes it to the silver screen.

So Greg’s brilliant idea was to start an “Employee of the Month” program. The “Employee of the Month” would be picked based on a variety of standards including punctuality, work ethic, and “image” standards (i.e., proper uniform & grooming). The “winner” of the “Employee of the Month” gets $25 cash and a uniform shirt embroidered with his or her name on it.

“No, it won’t be a popularity contest,” Greg made very clear when he first posted the notice.

Then I went in today to work — well, yesterday, er, Sunday afternoon — and what do I find? A box on the prep table, next to it: a pen and several slips of paper. Written on the box: “VOTE FOR EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH!”

Not a popularity contest, huh?

I did the only thing I could do in a situation like that — I promptly posted a sign, “One Vote For Sale - $5 OBO. See Snay.”

No takers, yet.

August already … where has time gone?

Eh. More on that later.

Today = Fun

See, Tippy forgave me a long time ago for sending her to the vet’s and getting her bathed and spending the night away from the comfort of home.

Guy … has not been so forgiving.

Even though that was close to three weeks ago, it took him until earlier this evening to saunter up to me and rub my dangling hand as I reread Harry Potter & The Goblet of Fire. I scratched his head, and he played around for a few minutes before dropping himself into a ball a few feet away and cleaning himself.

Little does he know. Little do either of them know - or suspect - about tomorrow.

See, the thing about flea bombing is, you can’t just do it once. Because flea eggs are immune to the fumigating-whatcha-ma-callit. So you fumigate, then have to do it again 2-3 weeks later.

And tomorrow (today!) I’m fumigating again. The cats go into the vets very earlier - I’m going to load them into my car, set off the bombs, then take them to the vet on my way to work. By the time I get out of work the bombs will have worked their magic and I’ll have several hours of cleaning ahead of me.

The last time I took them to the vets, I was advised that Guy might need an antibiotic shot if he kept scratching at himself as hard as he had been (seems fleas inject some sort of thing into cats that makes them want to scratch). Anyway, Guy is getting a shot tomorrow. What this essentially means is that he is going to hate me.

For. All. Time.

Oh! Mental note: get quarters from the bank for laundry …