I hate cats
You could also change the title of this entry to “I hate everything that I am allergic to” which would include the whole wide world. Ok, so I tend to exaggerate, but I did the pricking test and my whole back got swollen with hives, so much so that the nurse was like – ‘ Well, the good news is that the doctor is going to love you!’ Amongst other things, I’m allergic to ragweed, pollen, grass, hypocrites, people who can’t laugh at themselves and Miley Cyrus (ok, maybe I made the last couple up, but I do always feel my eyes rolling and my throat gagging when I encounter them. That’s kind of like an allergic reaction, isn’t it?). So, recap: I’m allergic to a lot of crap.
Right now, my hatred is particularly concentrated on one cat, and I do hate to speak ill of the dead (and possibly adorable), but that darned cat is making my new condo unlivable for me. I can just imagine it prancing around just shaking its thick, glossy coat, shedding hair gleefully on every single corner and rolling in ecstasy over the carpet while purring and thinking “Aha, I will exact my revenge on the future owner of this house by rubbing over every single inch of floor and then going over it again and licking it!” I am hoping that after a vigorous cleaning most of the eau de cat will be gone, because my allergy pills aren’t helping that much. It sucks that instead of having that new-ownership glow the only glisten I have is that of my tears as they roll down my cheeks. Because of a cat that I HAVE NEVER MET.
Otherwise, the new place is awesome. Yesterday I got the cutest welcome to the neighborhood ever when a little family of ducks marched down my patio. Eh, I don’t care that my eyes water or that the skin around my nose is raw because I’m a cheapo and I buy kleenex with the consistency of sandpaper – I have ducks! I already named the babies Dewey, Cheetham and Howe (bonus points if you get the reference).
