Karma's a Bitch, A Small, Furry Little Bitch

Right around 10:00 pm is the kitten's regularly scheduled insane-freaking-cats time. They run into each other, try to eat each other's heads, catch imaginary mice that apparently live in my hair and leap across the bed where I am trying to read. Every. Freaking. Night. It's just what they do. Then, when I'm ready to turn the light off and don't want a small animal playing claw-the-foot with me as I try to sleep, I throw them all out and close the door.

Which is what I did. Which went fine. But then I remembered that I had left the girl's new books, for our upcoming 7.5+ hour car trip, on the table, and I didn't want the girls to find them when they woke up, so I had to open the door.

They always try to sneak back in. Always. They press their furry little bodies low to the ground and sneak, but right in front of me. I don't think they think I can see them coming, but I can. (But we've already established how brilliant these little things are.)

So I kick my foot in their general direction and shoo them away while sliding my body through the smallest possible gap between door and doorway. But last night, as I attempted to kick a small, adorable kitten in the face, I slammed my toes so hard into the doorway that I almost fell over.

I'm pretty sure I broke something. Like a toe. Or three. Just in time for today, when I am going over to help my friends move everything they own into a large truck. Wow. I am like the best friend ever, and I have the best timing, and did I mention that I was trying to kick a kitten in the face? Damn.