The day started off well. I woke up before 8 along with my wife — well, the alarm clock rang before 8, we got out of bed some time after that — and immediately started working. And by working, I mean posting pictures on Instagram, including one of that cat I love so much and who, perhaps, loves me back. Who knows with these little creatures: sometimes they are loudly purring on your lap and suddenly start biting your ass (not literally), other times they let you carry them around the house as if they were a (full) bag of chips. That’s part of the appeal, kind of like playing black jack — you know you’ll lose, you just don’t know how.
Anyway, my wife eventually left for work and the cat looked at me with that expression I know all too well: “I would have preferred she was the one staying, but you’re better than empty air, so I’ll let you pet me. Like, right now”. Story of my (morning) life). As I sat at the kitchen bar and went through my daily dose of Youtube videos — Trump sure said a lot more shit since yesterday… — I would occasionally get up from my chair and go check on the little guy, who was sound asleep in his little cot, and who would start purring and/or showing off his belly, a sign that he doesn’t see me as a threat. Clearly.
A little after 10, I got a message from my wife: she felt a bout of migraine coming up. And her type of migraine is the real one: like, she can’t see, needs pitch black darkness not to throw up on you, will still throw up (hopefully in the bucket I tactically put right next to the bed) and, best of all, will hardly be able to speak for the foreseeable future. And by ‘best’, you do understand I don’t mean I’m happy that my wife can’t speak. I’m not a monster, although she may look like one when she wakes up after a few hours in the dark.
Half an hour later, she was home. I opened the door before she even finished climbing up those stairs (recognized the uncharacteristically slow pace, immediately assumed it was her): the cat ran out of the apartment to greet her. And followed her in. Then to the bedroom. Then sat on the bed right next to her.
What am I, chopped liver? Scratch that, he would probably like that stuff.