I need time alone. If I don't get it soon, I am going to seriously lose my shit.

I don't care if it's your birthday or you're moving three thousand kilometers away or Oskar the Cat needs his own kitten or we haven't gone grocery shopping since sometime in June or there's a play I should see or I need to buy new fall clothes for work or your band is having its CD release party or we're out of kitty litter or you want to come to Cityville for a visit or you want me to come to Cosmopolis for a visit or that restaurant has some great dish that I just have to try.

I don't care.

This Schmutzie is giving up socializing for a while. That is, I will be once I've gone to that birthday and bought groceries and kitty litter and gone to a volunteer orientation session at a local theatre and figured out what I am supposed to contribute to a local woman's organization that I am on a committee to do stuff for.

After that, I am going to crawl up inside my own bum where no one will try to follow me and stay there until mid-October.

Oh, except I can't do that, because we have opted to get our bad cat Oskar a kitten of his very own. I think the Fiery One and I have lost our collective minds. New kittens do not mean peace and quiet. Solitude is not part of the lexicon when it comes to four-footed, furry, megalomaniacs.

We are getting a second cat solely because Oskar is an aggressively social animal who is psychologically stunted. He is like those kids in elementary and high school who used to latch on to me as their Very Best Friend and shadow me at recess and lunch, lighting up every time we happened to like the same thing as though it were some kind of kismit that we came together. The major difference, though, other than the fact that they were people and Oskar's a cat, is that I keep Oskar at home with me on purpose and pay for his food and properly dispose of his shit with my own two hands.

I have been aware for a while now that this situation is insane.

So, he's going to get his own kitty to follow around and lick and meow at and cuddle and stalk into a nervous breakdown.

The longer I write about this, the more it sounds like we actually hate cats, because rather than get rid of the crappy cat we already have, we are going to get another cat to take all the shit behaviour and deflect that attention away from ourselves. Is this the part of our lives in which we realize our true natures and go through devastating mid-life crises because we finally figure out that our true natures are to be two huge assholes without human compassion?

I am going to avoid that conclusion for as long as possible and say the we really do love Oskar very much, but that we will likely love him even more if he spends less time eating my feet, mock-burying our coffee, standing on the keyboard, crying in the bathtub, and running upside down under the bed with his claws in the matress.

Of course we have thought of the welfare of our future kitten, and it will fucking love Oskar with all of its tiny, nut-sized heart.

Let me come at this from another direction:
We are getting a kitten tomorrow! A cuddly wuddly widdle kitty! It's going to be a girl, and we're going to name her Buttercup. If my uterus could birth baby kitties, I would do it, I swear! We will cuddle her and love her and feed her and pet her and sing to her and kiss her and tell her stories. She will be our sweetums lover fluffball baby.

Better? Good.

We just hope that Oskar does the same and learns to loosen up a bit, because he is seriously killing the nerve endings in my feet.

And completely off-topic, I have a question for you. What do you get a boy for his first birthday that doesn't cost an arm and a leg? I figure that one-year-olds probably haven't developed a taste for Cohibas just yet, and porn is definitely out of the question, as this is a family party, so what would you suggest? A Japanese sake set? A barometer?

Now I'm going to hide out in my cubicle some more until I go to that birthday party and then go to that other birthday party and then get another cat. Then, I am going to construct a cement bunker for myself in a secret location and live on canned beans there until I want to socialize again.

Places I've been recently: Digital Media Designer's "Photoshop Painting Techniques: Hair and Fur", Vintage Cookbooks flickr pool, and you must go watch the short movie Appling.