Cat.. uh.. fights.

So pretty much every morning without fail, I wake up in my new bedroom at 7:30AM. Don't be shocked, I've been doing this for a while now, and I attribute it to the fact that I'm getting older. The habit of rising earlier and earlier is a genetic defect in my family that I've come to accept. My Nana, who is 92 years old in April, gets up now at 4:30AM. Based on these facts, we can do the math and figure that I will get up about 3 minutes, 10 seconds earlier every year that I'm alive. Going to bed later makes no difference; I can go to bed, and often do, somewhere between 2 and 3AM, and still get up at 7:30. It's one of many tortures I must endure.

So for the last week or so, at this early hour, I've been privy to some very interesting goings-on just outside my window. It starts as a low bellow, and increases in pitch, until I think it may be a crying baby. But then, the unmistakable cat yowl, and I realize in an instant what's going on. Some hussy is in heat! And boy is she sluttin' it up. She's been at it every morning for a week. Thank goodness I'm already up and about; the racket would certainly piss me off otherwise. Now, I just think it's funny. At least someone around here is gettin' some. Cat ho!

I want to go to IKEA and get some shelving. Right now. I need shelving. But I can't leave now. Two things prevent me from driving around at certain hours since I've been living in this oasis: Parking and Traffic. Leaving at 5PM adds an extra hour or two of being stranded on roadway. And did I mention I had no radio? Yeah. Then, coming back, well.. since I don't have the old permanent parking sticker yet, my options are limited. 3 o'clock seems to be the magic hour for parking. Before that, you're golden. After? You're on Sinatra... enjoy the walk. And watch out for the slutty cats.

Damn, I need shelving.