Cats, cats, cats.

We have way too many cats. I still like playing with them, most of them, but we have too many. The spare room has become a cat condo, and I can't go anywhere in the house without one of them at my feet, or climbing up my leg, or rubbing thier head on my face. They're lucky they're cute.

The bathroom is no safe haven. Everytime I try to close the door to lock myself in, one of the cats is quck enough to slip in behind me. Even leaving the house is difficult with two of the cats literally putting thier bodies at risk to get out into the hallway. They try to squeeze out when the door is open two inches, I thought they had whiskers to know what they can and can't fit though. So we have to delicately open the door, let the cats out, then try to round them up in an organized fashion.

At least they're funny and provide significant amusement. Unlike Concordia who simply won't accept that I lived in Montreal from August '09 to October '09. A letter from my landlord saying I lived there wasn't enough because, aside from the fact that he's probably lying, he doesn't own the house anymore. Why does that even matter?

Of course it's my fault for not insisting upon a lease for that time I suppose. We were doing him a favour. He wanted to sell, the new owner would probably want to live in the place himself, so we stayed without a lease until a new owner was found. Serves us right says Concordia.

I shouldn't complain, I've proving I've lived in Montreal for the past two years so that I can get half off the cost of my classes, which is a cool concept, but man is it frustrating to deal with the buraucracy. It was easier to get my health card, which is enough proof for Concordia, but it won't come in the mail for another three weeks. Hopefully Concordia can wait till then.

Work is going well. With Delhi screwing up the Commonweath Games so badly I have much to write about. The Als are still going strong too. Maybe I can create a sport for the cats and kill to birds with one stone. I'll call it UFC (Ultimate Fighting Cats). Just like the real UFC it would be boring, boring, boring, then bam three seconds of excitment as the cats wake up and walk to the food bowl, then boring, boring, boring. At least that's the way it was the last time I watched an Ultimate Fighting Challenge fight, granted it was in 1993, and I do not intend to watch another one if I can help it.

Oh yeah and one of the new cats insists on using the bathtub as a kitty litter if we forget to close the door. So that's the crap I've been dealing with for the last couple weeks. Litterally.