In the grand tradition of procrastination, we are now spending our weekend Spring cleaning. As I run the carpet shampooer, my mind wanders, but apparently not that far, for I'm still in the house. I had a great idea for a blog post, and decided that I should actually do something about it. Congratulations! My need for sustenance and inability to do physical labor for copious amounts of time has led me to this, along with blueberry bagel with cream cheese and red currant jelly. Did I mention: RED CURRANT JELLY.
Now without further ado, Reasons My Cats Hate Me, round #58463:
- I took one to the vet and they took his temperature. If you don't know what that means, be happy. He wasn't.
- I won't give one butter to eat every time I'm in the kitchen and it looks like I might be near the toaster.
- I turned the vacuum on right beside one of them. (I actually can't blame her on that one, but in my defense, she's sentient and not where I last left her, meaning I didn't see her until it was too late.)
- I won't let them into the garage to recreate the great pee-fest of 2015.
- I closed the bathroom window so one couldn't get access to the dead foliage trapped there, and eat it.
- I came back to the room and wanted to sit in my chair at my computer. Which is apparently someone's choice of bed this week/month/quarter.
- I'm not getting up fast enough when it's dark and they want bedtime treats, and sometimes I mock them when the cries for said treats become strident.
- I won't let the one who's obsessed with the eucalyptus wreath eat any of it.
- I keep stealing their poop, even the artfully designed non-litter box statements of their happiness at any given moment.
- I won't let them eat off my plate, or lick my food/plate/bowl until I've finished eating.
- I keep washing the bathmat they keep christening.