I'm just going to come right out with it. Tuesday I vomited on the DSL modem, which apparently is not waterproof. In spite of the Madame's best efforts to revive it, those glorious green and orange blinking lights went dark for good. I felt pretty awful about it right then. But things really went south when I realized it would take two days for Earthlink to ship us a new one. The thought of 48 hours without Internet access made my gut start aching again. How can I watch the rest of this convention, I wailed to Madame, with my paws tied?!!
That's when it really got ugly. Uh, Henry, she says. Did you ever wonder what I'm doing when I'm in here at the computer for hours at a time and you're off somewhere napping or horking? Well, you see, I'm doing something called Work! It's what pays the Internet bill and buys your Hills Hairball Formula, which apparently isn't working so well. And do you know how DIFFICULT that Work is going to be now that you have injected your gastric juices into my office equipment?!
Well, I saw her point. But boy did it smart.
I imagine you're wondering why, after she finally got the new modem up and running and her operation back online, my benefactress has allowed me to return once again to the keys. It's called a space helmet. Available in feline sizes. If you ask to see a photo of me wearing it, I will shred your epidermis.
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Oh, poor Henry! Grey Kitty used to have *dreadful* problems with hairballs. Her favorite cure (besides the Petromalt, which she thought was delicious) was to run around the house late at night, growling like a small tiger. She seemed to think it worked best after midnight. I'm sure Carla wouldn't mind.
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