Sometimes I Am Tempted To Beat My Cat To Within An Inch Of Her Life

I don't get much sleep at night because Ruth Bader Catsburg likes to wake me up at 4a.m. and then every twenty minutes thereafter to say hello, gently paw at my face, meow and play with her toys.

JKR always has loose change in his pockets that falls out all over the floor and Ruth has taken to sliding coins around my hard wood floors all night long. I'm tired. I tried to find the coins before I went to bed last night, but now she's hiding them. I hunted all over my apartment and finally found this:

What can I say, my little girl has dreams.

What's worrisome about this behavior is that JKR and I have decided to move in together. We found a place and we're moving at the 6-month mark and combining households. His cat is like a miniature woolly mammoth and apparently, somewhat of an evil genius. My cat is kind of dumb and is always falling off of furniture, getting her claws caught on stuff and misjudging the height of things - she's definitely not going to an ivy league school. I worry they are going to fight, that Rocky is going to eat her, or that they'll be besties and I'll never sleep again. The dog will be fine, she sleeps all day at JKR's office and is afraid of everything.

On the more serious side, I'm also worried about no longer having alone time to shave things and clip my toenails. He will judge me for drinking directly out of the milk carton, especially when it's turned a little and smells funny and makes me nauseous, but I just really want milk and don't want to go out and get a new one because I'm not wearing pants. I need time alone to write and think and worry that everyone I know secretly hates me - when will I find time for that now? I've done the cohabitation thing with guys before and usually, it's the death sentence. That, and going on vacation together. It's a big risk, particularly because there is going to be paperwork involved. I'm excited for the good parts: he's very funny, a great cook and owns a sofa and television, but it's hard not to worry about everything that could go wrong - then obsess over those potential pitfalls, over-analyze them, play out all scenarios in my head and end the relationship on a high note having figured out that it's going to fail because I don't like soda and he does and it will be the death of us. Meh, it'll be great.