My grandma called up to tell me that last night, my brother's cat had tried to get Probie, ripping out the screen on the top of his cage. She then sat and stared at him last night. I woke up to a guinea pig with sever PTSD. Or something. He was shaking and hiding i
n his tunnel. So, I gave him some lettuce and he's in Michael's room, which the door is closed to, and I threw the cat out of the house. I really wish we could get rid of her. She's already killed one of my pets (a hamster about 2 years ago). I just hate cats.So after, losing my glasses (which I found), dropping a coffee mug (which almost, but didn't break. It did, however, fall on my foot. Which I'm not so sure didn't break.), and not being able to find my favorite shirt, I've gone from not a morning person, to a volcano. I'm going to explode....
Also, Algebra is going terribly. My horrible teacher had two great lines this week.
1- 5 kids in our class have above a 'c'. His response was, "Oh, I'm not too worried yet. We haven't done much work.."
2- I asked a question about a math problem. He said, "That's just the way the book says to do it."
Nice.
3 comments:
The mental image of Probie twitching in his cage makes me laugh.
It's funny 'cause it's sad.
And laughter is your nervous reaction to Post Trauma Something Disorder.
Stress, Lizness. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Probie is slowly recovering. I gave him some peppers and he's locked in Michael's room safe now. Still not squeaking, but no suicide attempts yet.
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