The cute little girl-cat-turned-boy-cat-that-has-grown-to-unforeseen-monstrous-proportions-considering-he’s-maybe-only-9-months-old has got himself a new favourite activity.
He eats my clothes.
It started with socks and underwear.
Then he moved up to pajama pants and the straps of my camisole shirts (followed quickly by the bellies of my camisole shirts), the sleeves of my long-sleeved (ha!) jersey shirts that are part of my work uniform, and the ribbing along the bottom of both of my sweat shirts.
I don’t have a lot of clothes – on purpose. I’ve been “smallering” now for years, and my wardrobe consists mostly of two full sets of work uniforms and maybe three full sets of my “non-work uniforms”, because, especially in the winter, no one can see what I’m wearing, so I just wear the same damned thing all the time.
And now the F-ing cat (newly re-named yet again, this time to “Mothra”) has eaten a hole in one of my two pairs of jeans.
The weather had better warm up fast and soon, at this rate.
Random Song-for-the-Day: “Cake by the Ocean” – DNCE