wretched cat

LabRat has been kind enough to make a little space in his flat for me, while I sort out my housing situation. Last night was the first night I took advantage of the freshly-puchased air mattress...which I hadn't realized would be located squarely under his sleeping loft. For some reason, I thought they still had a utility room, or that I might be in the living room. Because I'd been out gallivanting through a theater festival with Poi until late, I didn't get to LabRat's until 1:30 in the morning. Couldn't make the key work. LabRat woke up to my scrabbling and came to the door.

"WHERE have you been? Your mother and I have been worried sick!"

Then the fumbling down the hall for the bathroom without light, cursing my own pride that I think I can see in the dark when I clearly can't, the settling in, petting a surprisingly tractable Dee the cat. LabRat sleeps on an air mattress himself, which squeaks terribly against the wood of his loft, and one of his roommates clearly wears heels and needs to walk around a lot in the morning.

I have fallen out of the habit of sleeping in clearly defined residential spaces.

Then Dee--the cat I rescued and introduced to LabRat lo those many years ago, the cat named after me, the cat referred to as my familiar--turned on me. Yes! Ungrateful wretch. Rescued from a certain dreadful fate at the hands of teenage Satanists and turned over to the one man I know prepared to hand-cook her every meal, and what do I get in return?

Bupkes (and a clawing).