The Hairball Conspiracy

There’s just something about the ways things have been going around here lately that makes it next to impossible to sit down and bang out a decent post of any kind.

First of all, there’s the simple fact that my time management skills are not in the least bit what they should be. Of course - and not to make excuses, but - it would be one heck of a lot easier if I had a reasonable and consistent schedule. Unfortunately, instead of finding that tidy little Aristotelian mean, I swing between the vicious extremes of either not having enough time, or having entirely too much.

Second, I’ve been trying to cram as much time with my fiancée (hereinafter and forever to be known as “La Principessa”) as possible. I am pretty much without remorse on this point because in a week and a half she will be graduated and a continent away for a fair chunk of the next year and a half. I’m going to assume that I don’t need to explain myself any further on that point.

Oh, and a close third, I got home late last night with every intention of writing a post magnificent…until I realized that Octavian (my cat) had in essence tried to use my desk as a massive climbing toy, pulling down all sorts of miscellany in my absence. I was too tired to be really angry at him, so I just cleaned up and went to sleep. It’s not really his fault, either; I’ve been out a lot and the apartment isn’t exactly designed to entertain a 10-month-old kitten. I’ve just made a note of the fact that I really need to get him a piece of real furniture - read: climbing tower - to exercise on. Hopefully that will keep the destruction to a minimum.

The cat antics didn’t stop there, though. I managed to clean up the desk, but then I started hearing a sloshing noise coming from a location roughly synonymous with the inside of the cat. This I knew could not bode well (I’ve seen it before when he inexplicably drinks so much water that he pukes). As is his wont, he started in the living room, leaving me a lovely gift of brownish, chunky liquid. He then proceeded into the hallway. I followed, more to make sure he didn’t try to do anything to my shoes than to prevent nature taking its course - which it did, in the form of a green (yes, like pea-soup green) sausage of hair and what I can only assume were digestive fluids. He then proceeded to do the same thing in the dining room.

All three messes were a relatively easy cleanup. However, I find myself wondering whether this is exactly how hairballs are supposed to make themselves known. Being the first time I’ve ever seen him bring one up - if one it indeed was - I have no idea what to expect. Part of me is tempted to just call up the vet to ask. I really don’t need him exploding (or puking on anything in my absence).

So that would be why there was no customary middle-of-the-week post. In the way of a consolation, I give you what follows, courtesy of The Shrine of the Holy Whapping: