It’s 8:00pm and Sean is already asleep on the couch, curled up with the dogs. This isn’t unusual. In fact, he’s been asleep for about an hour already.

I’m watching-but-not-really something on Hulu. I have no idea what it is. By watching I really mean looking at Facebook and twitter, arguing politics with people. It’s a messy world out here.

The heat in here is a little much and Toad keeps meowing to me in something that sounds like German for, “I’m hot and hungry, don’t touch me, feed me”. At least that’s what I’m assuming he’s saying. You can never be sure with cats.

I think if we all went back to worshipping cats, things would be okay. Not that I’ve stopped. Toad is my fickle angel. But I seriously understand why the Egyptians worshipped cats. They’re beautiful and mysterious and they fill up that hole on your heart with warm purring, the most soothing sound there is. I wish people involuntarily purred. It would make dates way less awkward. You’d know right away if it was going well. Especially if we had tails. That swish is a dead giveaway for, “bitch, you on my last nerve.” So basically I just wish I was a cat. I know I’m not alone in this.


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