Ow. Ow. Definitely ow.

I haven't knit in 2 days. I'll give you a moment to absorb the enormity of that. Two days with no fibery happiness. Why? Glad you asked.

I was minding my own business, sitting and reading my emails before working on my latest project, and enjoying the lovely weather with my back door open, when my home was invaded. The neighbors cat had escaped, and in it's feline confusion (or possibly in a bid to take over the world one house at a time) wandered into my living room. I was a bit surprised, but watched for a moment to see if she would leave on her own. No dice. I got up to assist her gently on her way, and she decided to explore, which meant she sprinted upstairs. Hmmm. I decided to follow, and attempt to nicely remove her, as this is not a cat friendly household at the moment. I extended a friendly hand to her, and received what I believe was an acceptance of friendship in the form of kitty nuzzles and a request to be petted.

So far, so good. I then attempted to gently lift the confused kitty and walk her to the door. This is where things went wrong. Kitty objected strenuously to being removed. I was bitten and clawed, and Kitty ran past me, assumed on her way out. I am a bleeder, so I attempted to clean myself up, then called the oldest son to help me confirm Kitty had vacated the premises, with a warning to call me if he found her and not to touch her. Kitty was found in short order, making herself at home in Son's room. Crap. I decided friendship and gentleness was a lost cause. I grabbed a shirt, threw it over kitty, and hauled her out the door kicking, biting, and screaming. As I stated earlier, I am a bleeder. The cat did enough damage to my hands that the house looked like a crime scene. Son was rather traumatized, and went outside to yell at his friends about how he hates their stupid cat and it hurt his mommy.

I was a bit frazzled for a few minutes, trying to clean myself up enough to calm him down and prove I wasn't dying, and explain to the neighbors why I had bled all over their cat. They were truly appalled, and Kitty is grounded indefinitely. I managed to calm Son, and proceeded to clean and dress my hands. In spite of all my precautions, I woke up this morning with swollen and infected bite wounds.

I spent the morning in the ER, being pumped full of antibiotics and filling out a report for PMO. I have a week of oral and topical antibiotics, and my hands are still swollen and painful to move.

No knitting.

I think I might go insane.

In Sock Wars news, my doom socks are in the mail, and I am about 24 hours or one email from declaring myself dead. I made it to the final 97 (or less) and got within 14 days of the end game, well beyond what I expected. I'm so playing again, and next time I'm avoiding felines and Strep carriers. At least I get to use that cool obituary A and I collaborated on...