I haz an owie...

My original plan for Friday night was pretty typical - hit the gym after work, stop at Trader Joe's on my way home to stock up on organic chicken tenders, and then come home. Alas, it was not to be.

Instead, I was at work until 8pm. Back in the spring, I was put in charge of SCCM, a Microsoft product that we are using to deploy software. It sounded like a fun project, despite my lack of any serious application-deployment or system engineer experience. Instead, it's been a headache, and despite out-of-state training and several visits from an outside consultant, it hasn't been working. Then, a few weeks ago, I finally got it to the point where it was working, which was good since we're planning on an Office 2007 deployment in the next few months. Then, a few weeks ago, it stopped working. So today we put in a call to Microsoft. At around 2pm.

We were on the phone until 8pm, and it still doesn't work. So at least I know it's not just me. But it killed my Friday plans. And then I got home and my cat tried to kill me.

Nibbler likes to run outside as soon as I open the door. So as usual, I dumped my stuff and ran outside to pick her up and bring her inside. She had run onto the little grass strip between my townhouse's path and my neighbors. I pick her up, and then kick over one my metal solar lights, which hits the concrete walkway - and freaks out the cat, who digs her claws into me - one into the arm, the other into my stomach.

I get her inside and look at my North Face fleece, and don't see any tears, but my belly and arm kind of sting. So a few hours later, I'm in the bathroom washing my hands after taking care of business, and look at my arm - and notice two nasty scratches. I lift up my shirt and notice two more on my belly.

OK, they aren't huge, but they are kind of nasty, and weren't terribly pleasant when I first got them. What's amazing is the arm ones went through my fleece, while the stomach ones went through the fleece, a button down shirt, and a t-shirt, without major tears in any of them. (I won't post a pic of my stomach, because I can't get a good one, and nobody wants to see my flabby belly anyway).

I can't really blame Nibbler - she panicked and acted on instinct to defend herself. But I do wonder sometimes if I should have had her declawed, despite the fact that many cat people view it as something Hitler would have done if he had a cat.