Peat left this morning at 4am to go to San Diego for the Comic Con with our friend Jay (the guy that introduced us, actually). I went with them last year, as did Jay’s girlfriend and her cousin, and we all had a great time. But this year, we let the men go alone, because frankly, it was just WAY too much for us. I mean, I know I’m nerdier than most girls: I dig comics and Star Wars [old school SW] and Trek [except Voyager and Enterprise] and I can name more than five hobbits and I know what THAC0 stands for, but this con was more than I could handle. So I let Peat go to nerd out as much as he wanted.

Ain’t I a good wife?

There’s one problem, though. I don’t know what it is, but now my stomach is in knots and I’m shaking and am a big ball of anxious anxiety. I can’t eat anything, and I’m fighting back tears. I’m totally freaking out.

And it’s not so much the fact that I’ll be alone for 5 days. He’s gone on business trips before. Hell, I lived alone for 5 years before I moved in with him. No roommates, no pets, just me in a studio apartment in NYC. But for some reason, I can’t handle the thought of him being away now. And I finally figured out why.

I’m scared to death of being left alone for 5 days with our kitten. I mean, It’s not like I can’t take care of her by myself – I’m usually the one to feed her and clean her litter box as it is. That's not what terrifies me.

What wigs me out is that by the time Peat gets back, I’m just going to be a pile of shredded skin on the floor. I’m going to be chewed on like an old dog toy. Chunks of me are going to be scattered throughout the apartment. And Peat will come home and ask the neighbors what happened, and they’ll tell him that all they heard for 5 days was, “No, Jinx! Bad kitty! No biting!”

Does anyone know if they sell muzzles for 4-month-old kittens?