Dammit, Kitty Sensei

My kitten may be a spaz. But I think she's a Buddha.

I was just about to finish an awesome, link-intensive post for Split Personality about books and what I read, when I did -- something, I have no idea what -- and shut down the browser window.

One of these days I will learn not to compose in the browser window. But not today.

So I was furious, cursing, bitching, all those things you are when an hours' work goes to waste -- and about to say some things I'd regret over on BUST when I felt something cold on my arm.

Kitten had brought me Snakey (a tiny rubber snake she unearthed somewhere and proceeded to pair-bond with) so I could play with her. This is not kitten's normal mode. Normally Kitten and Snakey are in their own little universe, in which humans and other cats are unwelcome. Presumably other rubber snakes are not welcome either, but we haven't tested that one as yet.

Deep breath. Sigh. Where did my anger and frustration go? The same place as the last half-inch of Snakey's tail.

In other news, Ghost of Goldwater, with whom I have very little in common except a love of kittens and Douglas Adams, (well, we also have low tolerance for idiots judging by the circumstantial evidence) sent me this link about idiots intentionally harassing Indian call center operators, having confused that with a constructive protest of overseas outsourcing. People, you are assholes and karma is a bitch. You're not getting reborn as a Hindi for fifteen hundred kalpas, and that sucks for you.

(thanks GoG for the link)

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