I Touch Myself

Sometimes when I think no one is looking, I slowly move my paw down my belly and.... well, you know, touch myself.

So, I figured since I showed off Pedro's moobs, I should share my other cat's dirty little secret.   This is  the real Maya.  I'll let you in on a secret though, if I was caught touching myself, I wouldn't let myself be photographed.  And then let it be posted.  Maya the Cat is a hussy.  Some would say that she takes after me.  Now that I'm happily married, you'd all be wrong.

It's Beer O'Clock Somewhere

During my lunchbreak I sent my friend a message asking her if it was wine o'clock, beer o'clock or hard liquor o'clock.  I really wasn't fussy which o'clock it was, I just felt the need for a drink. 

We all have those days - where work is kicking our ass, family obligations are overwhelming, or the beastly children that live in the apartment above you haven't stopped screaming for the last two hours.  I had one of those days today.

In the real world I work one-to-one with students in school.  These students have behavioural problems, developmental delays or mental health issues - or a combination of any of these things.  I work with the same student for the entire year, helping them to nagivate their classes, de-escalating problem behaviours, communicating instructions to them, etc.  It's a rewarding job, it's more often than not a hard job, and it's an underpaid job.  Seriously underpaid.  *ahem* School board. *ahem*

Throughout most of my career I have been lucky to escape injury, although a troubling trend started this July when I received a concussion from a client in a residential program.  And my new student has chosen  hitting me as an appropriate expression of her displeasure at following the rules.  I can't say that I'm so excited by it.  We're really working on using words to express ourselves.

My new student is also a "bolter", and by bolter I don't mean someone who bolts sheet metal to the wall.  Do you even bolt sheet metal to the wall?  Thank god that isn't my job.  I'd be fired the first day.  Anyway.  She's a runner.  Which is swell.  I mean, I was going to try and start up an excercise regimen, but there's no need when I spend half the day blocking her escape from the school and the other half trying to tire her out by walking the indoor track.  It's good to look at the positives.

So, yeah.  Today was an ass-kicker.  And all I want is a beer.  And someone to make me dinner.  Someone to clean my house would be nice too.  And maybe to win the lottery.

But I'll settle for a beer.

And hope that tomorrow is better.