Continues

I spend all day thinking of things to write on my blog; when the time actually comes, though, I can't remember them. It's like I need to keep a blog-journal or write all my ideas down so that I can write them down for REAL later. :)

Here's one thing I thought about writing today: I had a great day. And the Lord was just totally there and I just pretty much had a great day. So, I was standing in Amy's kitchen with her as we made tea [side note: we had no evaporated milk -- only skim milk to put in the tea...thankfully it still turned out alright] and I said, "I love Jesus."

and she said, "Me, too!"

and then I did a nervous giggle. Actually, not a nervous giggle, just a plain giggle.

And then I thought: "What, do I not take myself seriously that I love Jesus? Like, as if it's something to add a nervous giggle to whenever it's said?"

And then I thought, "No...it's not a nervous giggle...it's like, a giddy giggle. And hey - I think it's pretty cute that I'm giddy about Jesus!" =)

***

Okay...this cat.

Right now it's laying on the back of my neck attacking my ponytail.

A few seconds ago, it backed up into the hallway then ran into the room, jumped onto the chair I have my feet on, and jumped over the screen of my computer, knocking it down flat (so the end result is the computer screen flat down with kitten laying on top of it).

This is getting out of hand.

Last night it decided that it needed to attack my bedspread in EVERY POSSIBLE PLACE. I had to kick her out of my room about 3 times. The pitiful thing is, that I keep letting her back in because when I put her, she walks around all alone in the dark hallway saying,

"MEW. MEW. MEW. MEW. why did you leave me all alone??? MEW. MEW. MEW."

Then, you feel guilty that you're tearing this poor kittens soul to pieces and let her in. I let her in with wishful thinking that she might just peacefully lay down next to me. But it isn't to be so. She walks across my neck as I lay there and she prances across my face. She jumps all over my bedspread and uses her claws every time she moves. Then she wants to attack the things on my bed-side table and knock my books over.

In order to get any sleep, I must put her out of the room and pretend that I'm asleep while I actually listen to her mournful cries until she gives up and goes downstairs. Then I have to listen to big booms downstairs and wonder if she's killing herself.

So then, I get up just to make sure she's okay. and the whole thing happens over again, because now she knows that I am AWAKE. upstairs. without her.

And it continues.