Last night I was not in the best of moods. I’d spent all day being stressed out at work, because I’ve got that terrible sinking feeling again — the one that comes when I fear that important deadlines and objectives are passing me by, and I’m now swamped with administrative tasks. So after all day of trying to ride through that maelstrom, then I got to run back home to take care of the critters and then get back downtown to meet The Wife after her class. My time ordering food at the drive-thru was the only time I had to myself the whole day — and the food was terrible; I felt more than a little sick to my stomach afterwards. Once I got home, it was time to teach but I had to put that off because somehow, Ginger the cat had got outside and was hiding underneath the front porch, scared to death of the rainstorm that was going on. After The Wife and I located and rescued her, I could finally sit down and teach. My students were behaving badly (turning in tests late, not in the format that I require, and requiring a lot of hand-holding). So when I finally shut down and got ready for bed, I remembered that The Wife had asked me to rinse out a couple of wine glasses from the previous night that were still on her shelf.
So I started walking downstairs with the wine glasses to do that, when I felt something warm and hairy slithering under my foot. It took me about a quarter of a second to realize that it was Jordan, the Soccer Ball Kitty — I had stepped on not only her tail but part of one of her rear legs. She let out a yelp, and so did I. I was really afraid that I’d hurt her. The cat scampered downstairs, The Wife woke up, and I felt terrible.
The cat is okay, and she later forgave me for my clumsiness. The Wife was eventually able to fall back asleep. So it all worked out, but all the same, it was not the best night on record.
