They are. I swear to god. With their adorableness and their smallness and their sweet little claws and their FUCKING DANDER.
I'm sorry. That was strongly worded. But I'm one big mucous pinata right now (that metaphor grossed people out, back during the Big Mucous Fest of '04, but it's still apropos) -- the Robitussin I took last night and this morning barely making a dent.
This shouldn't be groundbreaking news, but the fact of the matter is that despite my incredibly valuable ova, I'm actually quite stupid. See, I've been feeling yucky for the past week or so, and somehow the fact that, three out of the past seven days, I spent up to half an hour cuddling cute baby kittens (even, god help me, rubbing them on my face) didn't connect in my brain with the symptoms I'd been experiencing. Granted, my brain was congested with EVIL KITTEN DANDER, but still.
Hopefully, some more Robitussin ::shudders at thought of taste:: will have me breathing like a human being again. In the meantime, I shall continue to demonstrate that I don't got the sense God gave me, and think about how much fun it'll be to play with the baby kittens again.