Last night I got three phone calls that all sounded like this:

"Sarrraahhh! You are the coolest sister. When mom and dad go away, I am going to have a small party, okay? They go away in not November, not December, not January, but February. Sarah, we will spend time together. You're the best sister.....blablabla"

I love it when my little sister calls me when she's drunk.

So this afternoon I decided to clean out the fridge. Nicole and I both eat very sporadically so we always end up throwing out food every few weeks. Anyways, i found all kinds of little friends including a moldy tomato, expired yougert and lunch meat. Lemondae crusted to the bottom of the fridge and some old ground beef. I guess that's where the story begins.

I took out the ground beef which was approarching week two (or so) and while I was trying to put it into the compost, it spilled everywhere (mostly on the kitchen floor). Anyways, Lux kept eating it and I continued to angerly bat her away the broom. After she ate is she started acting really crazy and running up walls like she thought was was Emily Rose or something. Then she got in the bathtub and started running in it like it was a tread mill.

I have always known that I would be a neurotic mother. I worry constantly and am always worried about my family's heath so I know it would muiltply by 128931 once I have kids. Anyways, I started worrying that maybe Lux had gotten mad cow diesease and I got really scared. The last week has been kind of anxious/depressing anyways so I didn't want the burden of having a infected cat added on to my stress. So I called the animal hospital and the conversation went like this:

"Hello, can I help you?"
"My cat just ate a bunch of old hamburger. Could she have mad-cow?"
"I doubt it Mam.....but I think YOU could have mad cow"

I felt stupid and hung up. It was like when I was little and became convinced I had tape worms and my family had to drink red medicine. It's bad enough that i'm a hypochondriact, do I really need to inflict in on my cats. I am lame.