Really I shouldn’t be complaining that my apartment complex has a team of people that care of the lawn. I really shouldn’t. But, I do find it irritating when they do it at 8:30 in the morning on a Thursday. Better than a Saturday I guess, because normal people sleep in on Saturday.

It does make sense. I’ve moved plenty of lawn. You don’t want to do at 12pm or 2pm. Morning is good so its not balls hot. But I can’t remember that when I’m in bed. And when the noise wakes me up, I roll over to adjust and my cat is like, “Sweet, I’ve been waiting for hours for you to get up. Now you are. Let’s start the day with your our favorite ritual. Me sitting like an anvil on your chest and you rubbing down my neck.” Then she chirps, jumps on my lap, kneads me down and plops down with her face 4 inches away from mine and starts purring.

Yes, I do think she says all that. I’ve had several people, non-cat people, ask me “Why cats?” I’m not a strict dog person or cat person. When I was a kid I got a long with dogs because they’re dogs, and they’re friendly. They’re outside. Cats are in windows and don’t like to be pet by 8 year olds. So, as a wise kid, I declared myself a dog person. When I got older and met my friend Julie, who had 2-3 cats, I started to appreciate them more. Then when my mum got a cat called Blinkie, who was attached to me legs, I loved them more. Cats would seem like they don’t do anything, but they do. Endless entertainment. Hours. Comfort, especially when you’re sad or you have a tummyache. They talk to you, directly. If you say Hi, they say Hi.

Watching them walk around is entertainment enough for me, because I project what they’re thinking into sentence form. “Walking over here, to inspect this table leg because goodness me I’ve NEVER seen it before, oh, got an itch, scratchity-scratchity, hm, Wade is on the couch, I don’t feel like being pet, so I’m going to walk over by the back door, ooh, time to lick my crotch, lick lick lick, ok, man I’m tired time to nap!”

So a blog post bitching about my apartment complex, which is always fun, turned into a post about the merits of owning a cat. Whoop.

I’m going to go try get the boyfriend out of bed. We’re off today, and I want to be with him. Preferably while conscious though.