The cat is making himself at home for a night at the S.O’s. Sprawled out on the master bedroom’s floor. He thinks this place is the tits.
Both man and cat are skeptical they can inhabit the same territory as another thing with testicles.
It would be cute if I weren’t worried the little Italian prince wasn’t going to get attached to three stories of fun, and then promptly howl his disdain at the semi-shit-hole I am moving him into tomorrow.
I reiterate— I am living in an attic. Like, a GARRET. Little Princess-style.
In other news, I have just found out the hard way the S.O can pinch me with his finger-toes.
Yes. This is a gloriously weird union.