Having Rannie wandering around in this strange mood is like having a grenade rolling around on the floor of the house with the pin pulled. You never know when she's going to stop chirping, chortling, and purring and turn into a spitting, psychotic whirl of yowling claws.
Last night she took to hopping onto the bed and issuing wild-eyed death threats to Mittens, who was attempting to sleep next to mommy's head, as is her wont. Rannie wound up banished to the outer darkness. Or at least the living room, on the other side of a closed door.
There's only room for one self-absorbed bundle of neuroses in this house, cat. Keep it up and it's medical experiments for you.