So here I am blogging in bed again. And again, I am pooped. Super pooped. Like, my legs are propped up on pillows because they're all swollen and pooped from being on their feet for 12 hours. (Pout, pout, pout. Whine, whine, whine).
I don't really have the desire to move even one inch. My alarm is set for 5 a.m. for another long day, and Harley's being an asshole.
She's on my nightstand right now. I have exactly three things on my nightstand at the moment, other than a lamp and a cat: chapstick, fingernail clippers and an empty bottle of water.
First Harley batted the chapstick off the table. I snarled and gave her the evil eye. She stopped, but moved on to the nail clippers.
Hey, asshole. STOP IT.
Once I mustered the energy to roll over, I snagged them away from her. And that's when she - swear to Jesus - looked me in the eye and swatted the water bottle off the table with one swipe of her paw. And then just sat there, looking at me, all, "Take that, bitch."
She is a hateful little beast.