Last night, our faucet in the kitchen screwed up. My roommate, who is rather good at DIY things, felt that now the major fuckery with the sink had been fixed, we could probably do this part ourselves. Well, to clarify, he could do it. I really only opened a box and held a flashlight. He fixed it though, which is amazing because the house fights every improvement project, he was sick, and it's plumbing and I'm watercursed.
Anyway, between those three factors, we (he) managed to get the sink fixed eventually. Around 11, we finally ate breakfast. The faucet was working, but whenever something gets fixed, there is always still a period of panic, wondering if it's going to screw up again. We were tired and hurting and feeling like the world was against us.
And then one of the cats decided to puke.
See, this is one of the life lessons that cats offer us. Cats offer many lessons, of course, most of them painful and humbling. I guess this one is maybe a perspective lesson though. "No matter how bad you think things are, a cat can still come and make it worse by puking."
You may have just lost your job and have only two days before they kick you out of your house, but hey, that wasn't as bad as things are NOW. The cat just puked on your last paycheck.
The tornado may have just demolished everything you owned, but you still have your cat. He just crawled out of the rubble . . . and puked on your last clean and undamaged pair of pants.
The serial killer is after you and you need to run away from him! You grab your shoes . . . and realize as your feet sink into them that the cat has puked in your shoes. Again.
Ah, cats! Is there nothing they can't make worse?
Don't get me wrong. I love my cats. I do. But they truly have a deep level of indifference to everything going on around them. They don't care how tired you are, how sad, how sick, how broken. It doesn't matter to them at all. You're still there to clean up their messes. Little bastards.
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