37 Pieces of kibble

Every day when I get up in the morning, or come home in the evening, Squeaky Cat explains to me that he is DYING OF STARVATION because he is very close to just about almost being able to see the bottom of his food dish. Practically. It’s not actually empty, but he can see that it could possibly become empty at some point and feels very strongly that I should remediate this emergency immediately.

Kitty gets quite agitated about it, and tells me very clearly and very loudly that I am abusing him terribly by feeding him so little. Usually his lament is accompanied by running up and down the hall weaving between my feet until he gets too exhausted (because he is STARVING, yo) and flings himself onto the area rug in his best dramatic manner.

As you can see, he is practically a skeleton cat, and his life is nothing but endless  suffering. Oh, and misery. Lots of misery. No one knows the troubles he’s seen. Etc.

Kitty has a very hard life.
Kitty has a very hard life.

Squeaky Cat, like some of the people who live with him, has issues with food. He doesn’t like his food dish to actually get empty, and will  not finish all of his food unless a “people” is around who can refill it.

As Stephen put it, he gets down to his last 37 pieces of kibble and goes into Apocalypse mode until more food goes into his bowl. He does his very best to convince anyone in the room that his need is dire. It might be a little more convincing if he was slightly less rotund.

Kitty has gotten so fat that his tummy seam is all loose and his batting is starting to come out...
Kitty has gotten so fat that his tummy seam is all loose and his batting is starting to come out…
Or if the food dish was, in fact, empty.

38 pieces of kibble
38 pieces of kibble

He won’t stand for any nonsense about it, either-he expects his bowl to be filled in a prompt manner.

He can be quite stern about it.

Kitty is NOT having any of my nonsense!
Kitty is NOT having any of my nonsense!

Was it too much to ask?

Just one batch of ground beans so I could make a pot of coffee. My fatal error? Thinking that I could grind the beans before actually having had a cup of coffee first. 

A few months ago, I dropped the glass carafe to my coffee grinder. After searching for another one, but not finding one, I complained to Rocky the Roaster about it. 

“Jolin,” he said, “you are going to have to just buy a new grinder.”

But the old grinder worked! Really well! And I had the settings that gave me perfect coffee! And it was stupid to spend all that money to replace a working grinder when the only thing it needed was a five dollar piece of glass. 

I used a plastic container, but none of them fit perfectly. Coffee chaff flew all over the kitchen. Ground coffee fell all over the counter. 

Today I tried to make a simple adjustment and the top of the grinder fell off, taking the grinding assembly with it. Since it was in the midst of grinding beans, there was a pretty epic mess. 

So I did the rational thing. 
I went and got my phone to take a picture of the mess. 

Then I tossed it all into the trash and sat down to post about it so everyone would know this:

I should have listened to Rocky. 
After I have some coffee, I will order a new grinder. 



Some might accuse me of being a Pollyanna, but after sitting in the rain while my team lost a game that never should have been close, what I was left with was this:

I had a great time with friends and family. We can replace the collapsed canopies, but we can’t replace our time together.


PS Go Ducks!