Selfish little beasts these cats!
They have no care nor concern that I'm a busy person. That I'm doing some work, that I'm sitting on my workstation, staring at a white light, typing recipes. No, they don't care because now they're hungry and it's not even their dinner time yet.
It's a constant barrage of meows, incessant and passive-aggressive in a way that would make Gandhi proud.
It is constant. When one cat stops the other starts and the third just sits and stares, burning holes at the back of my skull with his condescending scornful look. Bloody judgemental little carnivorous cutie and the fourth scratches at his scratch post non-stop, knowing full well that it sheds bits of cardboard, like paper confetti all over my living room, not five minutes after the house has been thoroughly cleaned, disinfected and now smells of tangerine essential oil. No, they don't care. If there was a value lesser than zero, I don't mean a negative, but lesser than zero, lesser than nothing then these cats would be displaying exactly that value of scrupulousness.
Sobs.
Mealtime. Gah! It's either playtime when they're playfighting, shedding soft fur all over the couch and beds or it's sleep time (also my favourite time) or time to feed, which happens to be right now.
I mean come on.
Can I just stare at my beautiful gleaming house and take in the loveliness of its Thursday cleanliness before you monsters destroy it all?
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