Mom has been "working" so much overtime the last two weeks, that if I didn't know any better I'd think she had another cat over there. I don't care for it.
Everyday I wait by the back door at the appointed time and, nothing. "Where are you?" I meow at the top of my lungs. "Mom!"
Finally I give up and Dad tells me to shut it. So I nap in my bed till she finally arrives home. Thank Cod she still fawns over me like the kitty rockstar I am when she arrives.
She says the crunch time is almost over, and I can't wait. I hate when my well thought out (and carefully controlled) schedule is messed with. It's like they pay her or something.