Oh, Internet… I had big plans for today. I was supposed to go to a Nationals game with my husband, his sister, and my brother-in-law (my sister’s husband). It was going to be my first trip to the new stadium. But alas, it was not to be.

Immediately upon getting home from work to get ready for the game, I threw up. Twice. After twenty minutes, I still felt shaky and my stomach was churning. Not a good time to be 200 yards from a bathroom. I sent my hubby on to the game, and I’m staying home to recover and catch up on the two episodes of Battlestar Galactica that I’ve missed while out of town the past two weekends. (Yes, I love BSG. I’m married to a computer guy. It was in the vows.)

Here’s my picture for the day:

There I was, relaxing in the recliner with a bellyful of Pepto Bismol, when all of a sudden, 16 pounds of sympathetic feline planted itself in my lap.

Meet Bad Cat (yes, that is his real name). He has a perverse addiction to ponytail holders. He pulls them out of my hair when I’m sleeping, attempts to chew them off my wrist if I happen to have one on standby, and hoards them under the couch. He also loves to be covered up with a blanket. He eats feathers whenever he can get a hold of them. He is terrified of my niece and wails whenever she cries. And he’s an emotional eater. Yes, Bad Cat is a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, wrapped in bacon.

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