So, What Do Cat Ladies Do When Not Reading Personal Ads Anyway?

Most of you enjoy reading my ramblings because of the strange things I find floating around on the internet, but I often get the question of, "What exactly do you do when you're not scouring dating sites for poor schmucks to make fun of?" I think that's a reasonable question to ask. I am positive that I do other things than lurk on the internet waiting for some socially awkward individual to post a plea for passion. But, the more I thought about it, the less I could come up with for my "wild personal life." But, you deserve an answer, so here you go. Last night was a prime example of my night life.
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Yesterday, I decided to do what any girl would dream of doing on a Saturday night; I organized my shoes. In order for this story to make sense, I will have to come clean and tell you all that I deviate from the standard "cat lady" in a few ways; one of the ways happens to be my deep lust for shoes. I yearn for them in a way that is almost creepy. Normally, the shoes I desire have four inch heels or higher, which causes me to be even more disinterested in dating (if that's possible) due to the fact that Cat Lady + HIGH heels = 6'2"+. And, while that is hawt on some of the women of my acquaintance, I don't really have an urge to see over the head of every single person in SF.

Anyway, back to my story. Last night I finished organizing my shoe collection in the bookcase I just put together to store them in. Yes, I had to put my shoes in a bookcase to store them. I also have a slide-under-the-bed organizer for my flats, and I'm trying to figure out what to do with my boot collection. "What's wrong with a standard shoe-rack?" you  might ask. Let me tell you...

My darling baby cat thinks he's a dog. He plays fetch, follows you around the house, and... he chews on shoes! Yes, you heard it. In less than a month he went through my entire shoe collection. He chewed the heels off the high heels, he chewed the straps off the sandals, he chewed the SHIT out of my flip flops. My gym shower sandals have tooth marks all over them and a big chunk missing out of the right one's toe. Now, most shoe lovers in my position would be forced to skin the cat for such a malicious attack, but I am particularly fond of him. And, it gave me a reason to do what pleases me most... buy more shoes. But this time I had to keep them in their boxes, and the Leaning Tower of Stilettos that was forming in my bedroom was becoming somewhat dangerous to the health of small creatures that like to climb on things. Something had to be done. *ominous, yet exciting  music*

When I embarked on my quest to put my shoes out of harms way I had only planned on putting together my cheap, press-board bookcase, and loading it up with the multitude of shoes I will never have an occasion to wear. Halfway through this project I realized that I needed to put my new sheets on my bed. I ordered a new comforter set (yay Amazon shopping) because my current set looks like the cats have been cutting out strips to slowly build a little satin ladder to use in their daring window escape. (They're still working on how to get past the screen). My new set should be here next week, but it was time to change the sheets anyway (the cat litter was building up) so I stripped my bed down and prepared to change the bedding.

I'm going to have to back up a little bit to have any of this make sense. About a month ago, the far corner of my box spring slipped off the frame and started pointing down. Last night, I decided that I might as well fix that while I had the bed stripped down. (I wanted everything to be perfect for my new comforter set. I would hate for it to feel unwelcome). I remembered being able to maneuver a queen size bed around without much difficulty back when I lived in a quad, but that was before I had the metal headboard and footboard and the whole shebang. And... my bed is HEAVY!!!

No one else was home last night so I figured it would be an excellent idea to do some heavy lifting. First, I dragged the mattress off the bed and with the help of my shoulder, my head, and a conveniently open door I managed to prop it up against the wall. (Please bear in mind that my room isn't exactly what I would term as "spacious"). Then, I pulled the futon that I keep between the mattress and the box spring off. I think whoever made that thing lined it with lead; I think the damned thing weighs more than I do. I was out of room at this point with the mattress and the pile of discarded bedding taking up all available floor space, so I folded the futon up into a cylindrical sack of rocks and pushed it onto the floor at the edge of the bed where I could stand on it. Now I could finally see my saggy box spring and the corner that had slipped off the frame.

There was absolutely no place in my room to put the box spring if I removed it from the frame so I could tighten the screws holding the frame together. So, I did what any normal person would do.... I tucked the Allen Wrench and the pair of pliers I needed to tighten the bolts into my bra and lifted the box spring up so it was supported by my shoulder and the other end on the frame. It was at this point that Mischka couldn't watch his mommy do this alone. So he climbed up the box spring to peer over the top to see what was going on. (Effing cat). Once I finally jostled the thing around enough to get him off the damned thing, I worked my way over to the corner, retrieved my tools and crouched down (box spring still supported on head and shoulder) to tighten the bolts and relocate the slats to where they needed to be to support the box spring.

As I heaved my way back to the edge of the bed where I could military press the box spring off my shoulders/head and start to lower it, Mischka decided to climb across the slats on the frame to inspect what Mom is doing. Did I mention how freaking heavy this thing is??? At this time I was holding the box spring a foot or so above the frame and trying not to drop it on my (retarded) cat. Merely hissing "shoo" at him wasn't registering that he was in the way. In fact, he seemed to be attracted to the "get the eff out of here" noises. I couldn't let go of the box spring with one of my hands to move him because it was too heavy and he was just out of reach. I then decided the best possible action was to nudge him with my foot. (Remember I'm standing on a rolled up futon at this point). So, with all the grace and dignity of a newborn colt I lifted my right leg off of the futon and stretched it to the full extent I could reach to shove the cat in the ass and hopefully inspire his moving off of the slats I wanted to drop this metric ton of box spring onto. Mischka looked indignantly at me and stepped off the slat to drop down to where just his head was poking up above the slats. (Giving me the stink eye the whole time, mind you). That was good enough for me, as I lost my balance and fell on my ass on the futon, dropping the box spring on the frame and gaining victory over the downward-sloping bed. Mischka merely stepped out from under the bed and proceeded to jump on top of the newly situated box frame to look at me face to face. Then he rolled onto his back to demand belly rubs.

That was about how the rebuilding of the bed went after I collected myself from the pile of knees and elbows my graceful futon dismount had turned me into. I would do something, Mischka would inspect and mess it up. Rinse and repeat.
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So there you have it. The exciting life of a cat lady when not playing on the internet. Try not to be too jealous. I also have the joys of scooping cat litter, brushing unappreciative cats to help them deal with the heat, and vacuuming up the drifts of cat fur that summer causes to be left around the house.

Envy me.