I’ll tell you who’s the boss of me – our cats.
Yes, we have cats, which means you are, from time to time, going to be hearing cat stories. Sorry.
I’m still on the right side of the line of crazy cat lady, but just barely; and the cats are behind me pushing every day to get me to cross that line.
I had a really rough day at work. Sooooo much work. I got home and I was exhausted. How did I used to do this every day? The secretary I am covering for needs to get back in the office soon.
All I wanted to do was lay down for a bit with a good book (I’m currently reading Of Human Bondage on my Kindle. The jury is still out on whether this qualifies as a good book, and least in my (not so) humble opinion.
But no rest for the wicked. The cats are out of cat treats! The horror. Okay, we also needed milk, and English muffins, and some other stuff, but what we were out of was cat treats and that was the deciding factor.
Every night before I go to bed, the cats get their cat treats. I personally cannot deal with the guilt of not having cat treats for the cats. How pathetic is that? But it’s true. They are cats, for God’s sake, they are not going to understand that I was too tired after being tormented by lawyers all day to go out and get cat treats.
It would hurt their furry little feelings.
Worse, it would piss them off.
The only thing scarier than me pissed off, is one of my cats pissed off.
I have woken up with mystery scratches upon and holes in my person; I have stepped in strategically placed vomit or cat poo first thing in the morning; I have found disgusting things in my shoes; and I have had precious mementos apparently leap of their own volition off of shelves.
Trust me, it’s not worth it.
I know who the boss of me is.