Pardon the digressions, I've been up for 19 hours.

The other day, I was grocery shopping and I rolled passed the kitty toys and happened to spot a laser pointer within reach. Normally, they are kept higher up; out of the reach of impish seven-year olds with designs on blinding the neighborhood squirrels and Gay dudes riding wheelchairs who have cats and the wee slightest of sadistic streaks. Now mind you, I have mostly no qualms about asking the nearest walkie to grab something for me off a high shelf.. I mean, what else are they with their legs good for? It's not like they're doing anything but getting in my way and making asinine Speed Racer cracks, anyway... But some things, I just can't bring myself to ask for. Nothing makes a walkie talk like a satanic kewpie doll with a baby-talk fetish faster than a fat, old Gay dude in a chair talking about his kittypoopoo. It's often too hard to face.

But I digress...

So, I brought the laser pointer home, and let me tell you, Her Royal Highness, The Princess .... You know what? I don't have the heart anymore... Sylvie is not royalty....I love Sylvie mostly because she's slightly evil and also not always completely on her rocker, if you know what I mean....

But I digress again....

The point is, Sylvie was thrilled.

And then, The Ruling Reddcub got a hold of it...

I am in bed right now.... It's 12:30 in the morning...But, The RRC is in there with the cat and the laser.... I hear her running around and around in circles, her claws digging the area rug as her back legs hop like bunny feet, followed by a *thud* of her falling over, dizzy and then The RRC laughs hysterically. Rinse and repeat. Every ten minutes or so.... For like, hours.....