Very Funny, God

For the first two weeks of my education at Brooks I had a little bit of trouble sleeping. That trouble was named Brooks. The cat, not the school. (I know. Retrospectively the cat name might have been short-sighted.) None the less, Kitten Brooks was lonely during my days at class and therefore slept, which means that when I got home it was time to play. All night long.

Her games usually started with the "leap onto the mound under the covers!" which are feet. If the mound-feet moved, she would freak out and jump. If the mound-feet stayed painstakingly still, she would freak out and jump. When the mound-feet no longer provided entertainment, it was time to bite the mound-feet, which yielded a wonderful pitching and rolling carnival ride. This was every night, practically every hour. SPF and I devised a way to get two hours of sleep with The Toy. The toy is a collection of soft, mouse colored feathers on the end of a long string attached to a plastic rod. K. Brooks loves The Toy. Admittedly, K. Brooks is a little, well, fat. She is a chunk of kitten. The first night, she was so tired after her exercise that when I poked her she did not respond and I was afraid we had killed her, but alas, she just slept.

Kittens, aside from being generally resistant to the stupid things that they do like jumping into plate glass windows, also recoup their energy and fitness apparently quickly. Thus being the case, the second night she slept for an hour, and the following, she was not only not tired after The Toy, but she apparently wanted to play more. Very tiring existence.

So I admit that as SPF and I headed down to San Diego last weekend with K. Brooks in tow and I knew that at the end of the road lay a comfortable bed and, more importantly, doors that could be closed, I giggled with anticipation. Upon nearing our condo, my eyes grew wide with disbelief. The road was blocked with new construction signs. Not the old signs, the ones that we have had for a year, but new ones. Ones that specifically demonstrated the lack of the previously semi-permanent construction blockers.

"No." We both said in unison, our pupils shrinking in terror.

Yep. There it was. The Machine. The one that The City employed on the famed night of repaving. It had just started. The noise, the shaking, the beeping, the incessant beeping. And the irony is that SPF and I had planned on staying up that night and decided to come back a night early since I didn't have class. Early. Meaning that our original plan would have spared us The Machine and a repeat of the aforementioned night of repaving. My delirium has reached a new high. Or is it low?