I am working crazy hours lately. At least, they would be crazy to most people. The last few months I have transferred to working on the graveyard shift at my job. And no, I don't work in a graveyard. The hours I work are not so odd - it's the hours I sleep. You name a five to six hour period, and you would have caught me sleeping during that time sometime over the last few months. To save myself some confusion, I just wish everybody a good morning no matter what time of the day it is. People have learned to accept it. They should, damnit. If I've just eaten eggs and toast and drank my tea, as far as I'm concerned, it's morning. Now that I've demonstrated the level of my lucidity, it won't be so hard to accept this last bit of news that I read a bit ago. You can blame it's insanity on me. As far as you know, I'm making this up. I'm not, but go ahead, keep nodding and humor me. I get up in the "morning" (I don't remember when morning was that day, maybe 4pm or so) and I browse through my RSS feeds. I come across this story from the New York Post. "PET-PEEVED MA SUES OVER 'FERRET ATTACK." I am intrigued, so I read further... Apparently, two little girls were walking their pet ferrets on Zerega Avenue in the Bronx. Well, there's your first problem. Ferrets are illegal in New York City. These were apparently gangster ferrets of some kind, maybe even "cleaners." I don't know. I have to make *something* up for this to appear lucid, and "cleaner ferrets" sound somewhat plausible. Back to the story. Wanda Luciano says the two girls, named Melanie and Melody, were walking their pet ferrets when one of the cleaner ferrets jumped out and tried to hit her son, Jon-Luc. Melanie, Melody, and Jon-Luc, huh? You can see where there'd be trouble. Gangland names, straight across the board. I would be willing to bet that the girls were wearing anti-mad dog sunglasses. Wanda charged that "the girls harbored the 'wild' and 'ferocious' animals, which are 'prone to vicious, unpredictable attacks on humans, particularly young children and infants.'" Right in the middle of reading this important alert, my tea kettle goes off. I innocently walk to the kitchen when, out of nowhere, Shelby attacks me! She chases my feet, nipping the tops of them unmercifully. Shelby might as well have said, "Dance, hombre," because that's what I was doing. I do my own version of the cumbia while I make my tea, occasionally leaving the tea area to run around the kitchen in a circle. The viscious attack continues for about 6 minutes - there was blood, cream, and sugar everywhere! There probably wouldn't have been any blood, except I stubbed my ingrown toenail pretty good. Between my yelling and Shelby's dooking, I'm surprised someone didn't call the cops. Eventually, I make it back to my computer desk with my tea, and Shelby eventually decides to "clean" Jasper. Thank goodness. Not for Jasper, but for myself. I got back to my computer desk and continue the story, taking a few sips of tea. "Board of Health bans ferrets in 1999" blah blah blah... "City Council votes to overturn ban" hmm... "Giuliani vetoes measure" blah blah blah... "2002, Supreme Court upholds health law." I think to myself that's good, we need a healthy Supreme Court, but then I read further... "Since ban in effect, 67 ferret bites reported." The ferrets bit the Supreme Court? Were these activist ferrets? Did the ferrets retain their constitutional rights and refuse their rabies shots? I don't understand... I take a few more sips of my tea. The last thing I read in the story is that "attempts to reach the Baez girls (Melanie and Melody; just viscious, I tell you) and their mom, Nivia Loubriel Baez, also named as a defendant, were unsuccessful." I'm guessing that's probably because they were still laughing. You know how owners of gangland ferrets are - life is just a joke. I decide the world has been crazy enough for one day. Or maybe it's me. Either way, I need a nap. I go back to my bedroom and find Shelby sprawled out on top of my comforter. I carefully slide her over without waking her. I didn't want to make her mad, after all. I slip under the comforter and immediately she stretches and slides up next to me. She lets out one big yawn, eyes half-closed, then she drifts back off to sleep. She looks so angelic, one would never figure her for a cleaner ferret. I attempt to sleep myself, because it's bedtime somewhere, but I just can't. No one can sleep with one eye open, I don't care what they say. Roary Albuquerque, NM blog - http://ferretphilosophy.blogspot.com/ [Posted in FML issue 5163]