Rosa and the Half-Blood...Housewife?

It's 4 am. My time is all messed up because John works overnight and I don't work (because it's Christmas break for all of us teachers). So I sleep, sleep, sleep. And I cook. And I iron. And I do laundry. And I watch "I LOVE THE 90's!" so that I can become an expert of 90's Trivial Pursuit and one day, one day I will defeat the remarkably trivial mind of John. I came close tonight, but I always get stuck on the computer/technology questions.

When I do laundry, I start the washer and add laundry detergent. Then I add the clothes, bit by bit, because our laundry baskets actually hold clean, folded clothes from the last time I did laundry...so my arms are what carries dirty laundry to the washer. I have no idea why the clothes never end up in the dresser drawers. Anyway, this involves a lot of walking back and forth, so Rosa thinks it's cute to lay right in the middle of the kitchen, on her back so that her fuzzy belly fur is all over the place, and she attacks my feet as I walk past.

Since I am home more often since December 22nd (the last day of school), Rosa is in Cat Heaven. We are B.F.F.s. So, when John gets home and lies down (to sleep), Rosa attacks his feet. Because, when John isn't there, Rosa sleeps with me. But when John is here, she attacks him, lays on him, rubs her nose in his face, puts her butt or tail in his face, etc...

She's the perfect cat. Why? Because I'm her favorite person. That's the great thing about cats. ;-)