Sometimes Cats Are Jerks

Know what the thing I miss most about the home I am renting out? A separate office with a door I can close to get away from my cats, especially since my office and my living room are now the same place.

I was peacefully listening to the Trentemoller radio station on Pandora, weaving myself a comet tail inspired earring, when my small cat Gwendolyn came prowling on my desk.

Okay. I can hear it now. Yes, I know I should have placed her back on the floor, but she sat down so I figured it would be fine.

WRONG!

When you weave, you should give yourself extra to make sure that you do not run out before your project is finished. This means that sometimes you pull the needle above you head and back to be able to work the thread taut against the beads.

Apparently, this motion was enough to terrify Gwendolyn into panic mode. Since she was laying on a piece of paper I left on my desk, her feet slipped as the paper slid out from under her. Her back feet tossed a pile of bagged beads and ear wires against the wall and down through the one-inch clearance between my desk and the wall.

The beads I had poured out in five, neat piles on the fleece surface I used to lay the beads were an instant sparkly jumble of blues, whites, and golds.

Moments like these make me want to become a hermit with no cats. Or at least a room with a door that I could close and keep the cats out. A room without their litter boxes. That would make me very happy.  Swapping my living room/office for my bedroom might solve the problem except that it would require a lot of piece-by-piece furniture swapping in an apartment less than 650 sq. ft.

Just thinking about it makes me cringe.

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