Blue Sloth has organized an assignment for us...to describe something that mystifies us. I've gone back and forth for a few days thinking of all the things that mystify me: Britney Spears. Anna Nicole. How someone can get back in a racecar after sliding across the finish line on his roof in flames. The inherent oddness and unpredictability of the moods of teenage boys (yes, BOYS). Why airlines find it acceptable to leave customers on the tarmac for hours on end and won't return to the terminal. How a state can leave 50 miles of motorists stranded on a closed highway for over 24 hours with no assistance...on and on my disjointed thougth process goes.

But what is mystifying me most this week is my beloved Norman. Yes, again, the boy is using my spare room as his own personal litter box. I've tried everything. We've shampooed the rug repeatedly. I have multiple litter boxes which are scooped twice a day. I bought a litter locker to reduce the smell. I have feline pheremones being diffused into the air. I've taken samples to the vet to make sure he is not sick. I've taken HIM to the vet to make sure he is not sick.

He is not sick.

I am completely bewildered and confounded by this creature - so beloved, yet so bizarre. Right now, he is alternating between tackling his stuffed catnip eggplant (yes, you read that right) and slamming it and himself into the bedroom door so it slams against the closet door with a resounding boom and clotheslining himself with the lapttop power cord repeatedly until it unplugs and I have to get out of the warm bed and plug it back in before I lose everything.

He is lucky that I love him so.

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