Ack!

Oh my god. Survival of the Fittest just showed up in my living room: Not 30 minutes ago, Josh and I went up against the kittens in a mad chase for a tiny mouse darting through the apartment. Nora and Tallulah have claws and teeth and thought the mouse was a delightful toy. We had a small piece of Tupperware that we wielded with the hope of trapping the mouse so we could set it free outside.

We lost.

Scarred. for. life.

(I think this is penance for this morning. Nora opted to wake us up at 6 a.m. and spent the next hour biting our toes, knocking my alarm clock off my bedside table, walking across our heads and causing allaround havoc. It was the opposite of cute. And we don't have a door to our bedroom to keep them out so we can stay asleep and, therefore, sane. Around 7, when she once again batted away my alarm clock and the TeleZapper, I threw a pillow across the room and yelled, "You asshole!" So I think she's been plotting this all day, sort of, "You think I'm an asshole? I'll show you asshole, Mother." And then she committed murder. In front of me. And now she's asleep on the couch, fuzzy belly up, looking satisfied. That's diabolical.)