Monday is like the day you walk into a room and your cat looks at you like your shouldn’t be in HIS ROOM.
And you’re all: WHAT? What are you looking at? Did you pay for this room? Did you buy all the things in the boxes and bags that you’re laying on and I haven’t unpacked in the two months we’ve lived here? Oh did you buy food and feed yourself today? I don’t even want to hear it from you and your eyes this morning.
And the cat is all, meow, because he knows you’re still not going to unpack those boxes and not disturbing him is mostly an excuse.
Three hours later you step in cat puke with your bare feet.
You think: Touché, mon fracker.
But because you’re an eternal optimist, you put a shark towel on a dog, and we all feel better — even the cat.
Happy Monday, y’all. I hope it’s better now.