Sometimes I go home for lunch and every cat in the house is seemingly in the exact same position they were in when I left for work. There's a peaceful, languorous feeling enveloping the house. They look up at me when I greet them, yawn and go right back to sleep. I'm so jealous--why can't I spend the day napping in a sunbeam?
Other days I come home to a house strewn with uprooted plants, scattered, broken tchotchkes, closet and cabinet doors pried open for some undoubtedly nefarious purpose (seriously--what do they need from the medicine cabinet? floss?) and a general air of chaos.
Guess which kind today was?
Mantra for the day: I love my cats, I love my cats, I love my cats. (Repeat as needed.)