Traumatization = Having been traumatized

I was being driven into work on Friday morning, planning out my blog post, thinking about how I would tell you about my fun valentine’s day dinner. Too much beer, free rose, yummy food. I’m sitting in the passenger seat innocently chatting with my hubby and then BAM! I see a deer get hit by an SUV right in front of me. Which sent me into a sobbing fit for the rest of my ride to work and traumatized me for the rest of the day and part of the weekend.

Granted, it was only a deer, but animals are my thing. And knowing that all you can do is drive by, that you really can’t help, feels pretty crappy. Anyhow, with the trauma, I lost my will to blog. I am doing better, though all eagle-eyes (or more eagle-eyed than normal) on my drive to and from work.

So as to not end this post on a downer, I will share photos or my kitties from the last couple of weeks. They look like they have it pretty rough don’t they? Tomorrow I will hopefully be back to my regular programming, filling you in on my last couple of weekends.

Updated to add that nobody was physically hurt in the accident. Sorry I forgot that initially.

This is the loving nickname my dad has for my cat, Cheli (named after Chris “Cheli” Chelios, my favorite hockey player). Anyway, doesn’t he look all cute and peaceful? I was cleaning up my room yesterday and I put a bunch of fabric scraps in a bag. But my Cheli loves his wool and he tried to get into the bag. He was literally wrestling with me over it. I did finally get the bag away from him, tied it closed, and then continued to pick up. A little while later I noticed Cheli sleeping on the bag. So cute. Well, when I came home from work today, I noticed this mess. Cheli managed to get the bag open and play with some of the scraps. The playing is a bonus, really he just likes to rub up against the wool. Funny litte guy. I cleaned up his mess; we’ll see if he tries again.

Because there’s always a cat in it. Or under it.  Or both.
Aren’t they cute?!

My cat, Cheli, likes to drink water directly from the faucet. Anytime we walk in the bathroom, he sprints ahead, hops up on the sink, and waits for it to be turned on. And of course we turn it on for him. Sometimes he won’t drink from it right away, and the water runs and runs. Well, last Friday, I said to the cat, “Drink the water now, or I’m turning it off.” You’ll never believe it, but he did actually get up and start to drink.