GTA: Vice City, an actual work-related tale, and other stuff, maybe

So, the other night I had this dream that the caregiver of one of the kids at work died in a terrible car wreck. It was one of those really vivid dreams, and it put me in a funky mood for the day. Then, today, we had the kid in our group, and his caregiver? Wasn't there to pick him up.
(Insert "Twilight Zone" theme)
She was over a half-hour late in picking him up. We couldn't get a hold of her. I would be lying if my stoic resolve against anything resembling the 'paranormal' wasn't shaken. But then...
She showed up. No car accident.
But she *was* ill!
Coincidence? I think not! No, wait. So. Coincidence? I think so.

Anyway, I'm playing a lot of Grand Theft Auto: Vice City on the PS2 I gave Kat for her birthday. Yes, I realize that's so 2002, but what the hell? I likes me my beating whores with bats. I'm not proud of it, but there you are. There's a stats menu, and it tells you, among other things like how many people you've killed and how much money you've spent on clothes, how many hours you've played. I don't recall the exact number, but I'm pretty sure I should be embarrased. But man, it's so addicting Grand Theftin' those Autos!

So, I bring up the GTA action to contrast it against a game I played at work today. We were having some down time with the kids, and one of them was rolling the pool table balls around. I joined in, and we were haphazardly rolling the balls around, making them crash into each other, trying to hit the pockets, and then we began our own game. This is a simple game, with two players. One stands at each end of the pool table, and takes two balls, then we roll them at each other. Sometimes the balls hit each other, but sometimes they roll past and you have to try to catch them. But it's a co-operative game. Each player has to have two balls, and if he doesn't, then you either roll him an extra, or wait until he finds one, or help him recover one of the balls that has rolled into the middle of the table or onto the floor. And since the guy I was playing with had a hard time talking, you get a smile of gratitude from your 'opponent.'

Which is a much more fun reward than what you get after a-sploding cars.

Kat's cat, our cat, has anxiety issues involving food. I know this because I work with people every day who have anxiety issues involving food and the symptoms are there. He fixates on the food bag, sometimes rubbing up against it with his chin. Immediate hovering whenever anyone goes near his food. He's used to getting the water from the tuna can, and also getting milk whenever anyone has cereal, so he makes his presence known (and will frequently trip you) if you have either items in your hands. And all these are pretty easy to deal with, really.
It's when he can see the bottom of his bowl that he begins to get *really* concerned.
And that usually happens around 5 am.
Very early in the morning, he will notice he can see the bottom of his food dish. At which point, he will scamper up onto the bed and promptly sit on my head, meowing.
Does he do this to Kat? No. Kat is the deepest sleeper I've ever encountered. She's sleep through the apocolypse. At least, I know she can sleep through the occasional late-night opening of a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia Ice Cream. So her deep sleeping can cut both ways.
Anyway, Sylvester, the molester of my sleep, will continue to harass and pester me until I get up and refill his food dish.
But here's the kicker: The dish is invariably still half-full. He pushes the food around as he eats it, and half of the stuff has gathered up around the side of the bowl. The situation is far from critical. Rations are still present. But try to explain that to any cat, let alone a cat with food anxiety.