This morning was the usual stuff: wake up after my fiancée was already fully dressed and ready, drink the hot ginger tea she’s had time to prepare for me while I open my laptop to check the Instagram updates I got during the night (not bragging, but there usually are a few). Then spend the next couple of hours checking Youtube videos from last night’s late shows as I slowly wake up. Then go to the gym because I just have to: you haven’t seen me recently.
During all this, the cat was quietly sleeping on top of the bed in the other room, not interested in the least in my presence — although he’s pissed off whenever I leave him alone for too long: cats’ psychology… When I finally got dressed up (or down, rather) for the gym — earlier than last time — I dropped by the bedroom to say goodbye to that furry ball: he barely even opened his eyes at me... And off I went to suffer for an hour as my shoulder slowly heals itself and I gradually increase my weight lifting. Fun stuff.
An hour (and then some: I’m no slacker) later, I was back home, in pain and exhausted, starting to feel hungry. I hardly had time to drop my gym bag on the floor and the cat was already making circles around me, purring like a madman (or madcat, rather). This warmed my little human heart. I kneeled down to pet him, he immediately stood up on his back legs and started… sniffing my face. Then my sweater. Then back to extensively sniffing my legs.
After this was done — a good 2 minutes later — he looked at my left hand… and started licking it. The bastard was telling me I stunk in the most passive-agressive way possible. So I headed into the shower and the little guy went back to bed. Division of labor.