Yesterday was the LEAST relaxing day. We went to breakfast, then to see 300, which I liked but didn't love. Then I came home to take a nap. My baby, Skippy, was on the bed. I knew he wasn't feeling good, and the side of his neck was swollen. The dh told me to take today off and take him to the vet. I was going to take him when I got home.

But when I was laying down, I could feel him scratching. And scratching. And scratching.

That couldn't be good.

(MAYBE SKIP THIS IF YOU'RE EATING)

I looked at him and he'd scratched himself bloody. I started hollering for the dh, who was at Lowe's (WITHOUT ME!) and so the boy watched the kitten while I got dressed and washed the quilt and afghan, then we drove him to the kitty ER. We were only there about an hour and 20 minutes, got him cleaned up (and since he was sedated, they neutered him, too). They gave him antibiotics and he spent the rest of the night groggy and unhappy and, well, they didn't stitch him up because they wanted the abcess to drain, so, oozing.

But this morning he was waiting for me when I came out of the bathroom, and it sounds like he's playing with one of his toys now, so he'll be well. Still we have to give him antibiotics. Not easy.

So I need to go to work. Hard because Cindi and her husband won't be there - they have an inservice. Nicely timed, those rats.