The good news is, my cat didn't end up needing any teeth pulled yesterday. The bad news is, it cost me $220 to get her teeth brushed. Those suckers better be good and strong now. I'm talking tooth-wrestling strong, for that kind of money. Though this is the first time we've had to have anything medical done to her since the weird eye-covering tumor 10 years ago, so I guess I can forgive her.

The funny thing, and what makes the money all worth it, is that the vet initially thought that she would be yanking a tooth or three, so they knocked the cat out in preparation. Which means that though the cat was moving and well enough to yell at me for putting her back in the carrier and the car again, she was stoned all last night. Lots of walking directly into walls, not quite judging the height of the couch well, and staring at nothing. Which may not sound unusual for a cat, but this one seems to have figured out the fundamentals of not weirding me out, so normally she's a little more, well, normal. Not *smart*, but normal.

There was one particularly amusing incident in which she wanted Willem to open the door for her but she couldn't seem to figure out that she needed to back up out of the way. He would open it an inch, and the door would bonk the cat in the head. She would back up an inch, he would open the door a little more, and it would bonk the cat in the head. Repeat.

Good times.

Me, now, I'm not stoned. But I'm really, really tired, and I'm already on my second hospital call of the day, 53 minutes into my official shift (though I started a half hour early today, aren't I a good doobie). So I'm thinking coffee is in my immediate future. Because, really, what makes a Friday better than feeling jittery and anxious all day?