Chaucer decided to have an existential crisis this morning.
First, he got stuck under the futon which wasn't so bad until he didn't want to be there anymore and cried to have me come and get him out (which makes me wonder why it is that cats don't like to back up - he would have been able to get out OK but he didn't want to back up). Then he ran around the apartment like kitty-cat-on-meth. Then he crawled up on top of the kitchen cabinets, yowled until he got my attention, and then pretended that he was going to jump from the cabinets to the floor - that freaked me out because it's a good ten feet to the floor - but decided not to and proceeded to have a bath up there. Then he got down and picked a fight with Dante, who was napping and didn't appreciate being pounced. Then he bit my ankle (which is a no-no) and when I scolded him he rolled over on his back to get his tunny rubbed. Then he ran around, crawled into my lap (I was watching the news), and passed out in a purry, furry heap.
I'm now at work having my own existential crisis - I'm not here so please don't come bother me.
It occurs to me I used "then" a little too much in this post. Oh, well.
Current book-in-progress: Reading Matters: Five Centuries of Discovering Books by Margaret Willes
Current knitted item: Slouchy beret - it's really pretty (and about half done)!
Current movie obsession: I haven't watched anything lately.
Current iTunes loop: Sarah Brightman Winter Symphony
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