Wonder how long 'til I turn around, and all you see is this:Although I can only pray it'll look that smooth. The carpal tunnel syndrome I got while pregnant has severely limited what happens to my hair in the back. I try to use the straightening iron to force my hair to do nice things, and my wrists nearly crack in two. Crack. In. Two.
But speaking of cats...ours are more like little dogs. (They exchanged glances of disdain as I typed that.) When we lived in the pied-a-terre, they'd be sitting at the door every day, waiting for me to step inside the "foyer." And then I'd take a half step and be in the kitchen and find that they'd unpacked the sink of dirty dishes, licked them all clean, and strewn them across the floor for effect. This did not go unnoticed.
I believe the most entertaining aspect of the living set up were the doors. No longer could we shut them out of any room. None of the doors went all the way to the floor, so Sugar and Penelope would just hunker down and squish themselves through the two inch gap between floor and door. Nothing made me spit toothpaste faster than hearing them pass through the bathroom as I stood at the sink. First, the "door" between the bathroom and master bedroom would shake and rattle a bit. Then, a cat head would emerge, followed by a contorted body. Two cat lengths later, and the "door" between the bathroom and dining room (baha) would shake and rattle a bit, and cat and furry tail would disappear again.... Most likely to go pick out a dish from the sink to lick and distribute, you know, just any ol' place.