Tracie in Training . . .

I moved apartment last week and have come to suspect the cat that owns one of my new room-mates may have been using my Internet to read The Oatmeal. Our relationship didn't start well. When I went to view the room, Luna (her pet's name for her, tho I suspect her name for herself is much more impressive) had thrown up on the bed. The bed was moved out, I moved myself and my own bed in and I've been trying to explain politely to Luna (the mighty Empress of all) that I don't dislike her, I'm simply allergic.

Felines are abnormally attracted to anyone allergic to them.

We're developing this odd stalker relationship where she comes running from her pet's room most times she hears my bedroom door open, and I explain yet again she can't come in. Sometimes she's smarter than that, and lays low when I get up late at night then slips under my bed, and I only realize she's sneaked in when she appears by my head as I'm falling asleep.

She allows me, before I leave for work each morning, to pet her in the living room. I can't help but feel I disappoint her, though.