I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I ENDED UP DOWN HERE. When my roommates and I bought this house a few years ago, it was obvious that it needed some work before we could move in. Allison wanted a bathroom upstairs, and I wanted a suite of my own. She promised me I'd get that before I signed the mortgage. However, here we are three years and one additional master suite later, and do I have two bathrooms?
NO EFFIN' WAY. I have to go down two flights of stairs from our shared bedroom on the second floor to get to my litterbox, which is conveniently wedged in next to the fake Christmas tree box (which, I should use this chance to say, is tacky IMHO). It's disgraceful. So yesterday, when I was napping in our family bed and dreaming about dropping the kids off at the sandbox -- IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN #LOLLL - I woke up and asked myself, WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO WALK DOWN TWO FLIGHTS OF STAIRS JUST TO GET TO MY **CRAPPY** (LOL) BATHROOM WHEN THE ROOMMATES HAVE BATHROOMS AVAILABLE ALL OVER THE PLACE? #STANDUPFORYOURSELF #DONTBACKDOWN #RESPECT
So I did what any normal cat would do: I TINKLED ON ALLISON'S SIDE OF THE BED, HITTING AND RUINING (1) THE MEMORY FOAM MATTRESS TOPPER, (2) ALLISON'S FAVORITE PILLOW, AND (3) EVAN'S FAVORITE PILLOW. The trifecta, if you will. #WINNING
What's really hilarious is that Allison never noticed my little gift until she was laying in it. IT WAS HONESTLY THE BEST HUMP DAY I'VE HAD IN QUITE A WHILE.
But the roommates have a pretty good idea it was me, and now I'm being treated like a terrorist. I've been locked in the basement with bugs and mice and God knows what else. Very little food, obviously, unless you count the Prozac Allison's been shoving down my throat. Newsflash: I'm not suffering from anxiety, I'm just trying to get what I deserve, and no amount of mental health supplements are going to change that. I just hope I survive down here long enough to hit "Publish" when I'm through with this post.
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