If You Don't Have Anything Nice to Say...

Yes, I know it's been over a month since I posted anything. I've been too pissed off.

What? Yes.

I've been too pissed off by tea baggers, birthers, and deathers to even begin to want to write about it. Or to even calm down and find light and fluffy things to post. Maybe I've read too many articles over on HuffPo, read too many idiotic comments on stories. I've de-friended former classmates on Facebook because of their idiotic, racist comments about our president. (Hey, now I remember why I haven't spoken to those people in almost twenty years!)

Maybe it's Jon Stewart's fault--he's been on vacation for three weeks and hasn't been around to help defuse my anger at my fellow countrypeople.

I won't get started on how work's sawing through my last nerve. Stress is keeping me from sleeping well at night.

I've taken vacation days, shut down the computer, and searched for peace and quiet. Tried to find some zen. But that's almost impossible when Big Sam's running around panicked and meowing for reasons he will not share with me, Baby J's chewing on my toe, and Little Man is finding new ways to scale the bookcases while meowing at the top of his lungs (dude is suffering an overabundance of testosterone). I've shouted "No!" "What!?!" "Get Down!" and "Stop It!!" far too many times lately. I've rescued falling vases and sacrificed a leather purse for Izzy to use as a chew toy. Not like I had a choice in that matter after I caught him wrapped around it doing his best kung-foo fighting impression.

The only moments of peace I get are when I'm watching the bunnies chase each other around the yard. But then that reminds me that they dug their way out of their pen and it ticks me off all over again because I get stressed that they'll find their way under the fence.

But the coup de grace of everything has been the crazy cat lady comments from supposed "friends." Cat lady, maybe. But crazy? Not because of the cats, buddy! Usually I'm able to shrug that stupid stuff off. But I guess my nerves are just rubbed too raw by everything else right now.

I have three cats. So what? It's not like I have 20 and am on the lookout for more! I'm not running around wearing caftans, draped in cat jewelry, roaming the streets looking for strays to take in. And I do not want any more of them. As a matter of fact, I'm chasing off neighborhood cats on a daily basis!

How can it be crazy to keep pets? If they were dogs, would I be considered a crazy dog lady? I can afford to take care of them. I love them (some days more than others--I admit it!) and adore their individual personalities (if they'd just rein them in!) They are companions who help keep my house from feeling quite so empty. But to use my ownership of them as a taunt? How stupidly childish of supposedly grown adults!

I admit it. That shit's gotten to me. So much so that I considered just shutting down this blog. Why continue something that gives the taunters more fodder? I feel like the eccentric nerdy kid back in junior high again and I don't like it. I'm really disgusted with this "cat lady" discrimination. Would it be different if I were married? Could I then own cats without being called "crazy"?

If even one person out there really wants to continue reading about my boys, or anything I might have to say, leave a comment. I need to hear from you. This blog's future is in your hands.

In the meantime, I'm going to go unbunch my panties.