My cat was on fire...

...no, literally, my cat was just on fire. Burnt cat hair stinks.

So, I have an uber-ridiculous amount of school work to do this week, which is leading me to contemplate not going to my class this afternoon, being as I haven't even touched the reading, and, to drive to Waterloo for one 90 minute class when you haven't read the material seems kind of silly when I have two other assignments to do. We'll see. James would like it 'cause he could have the car. Charlie would like it 'cause he wouldn't be alone. Monty...may not like it, being as if I am at home he is more likely to be on fire.

So I've hunkered down in my little house with my books, laptop, cup of coffee, warm socks, hoodie, laptop, cbc in the background, candles lit ( our house smells really musty...I'm trying to combat the musty smell). Everything to make my study experience more comfortable.

And then the cat jumped onto the coffee table, and went to walk across it, which would be ok if he just walked across it. But instead he stopped, right over the candles. I assumed he would feel hot and keep going. Nope. Not until half the side of his body was flaming. Very briefly, but still, there was indeed a flaming cat on my coffee table a few minutes ago.

Burnt cat hair stinks.