No shit, y'all. I used to joke about aspiring to be a crazy cat lady. And as of this moment, I'm still the proud owner of the Crazy Cat Lady Starter Kit. That is to say, I still only have my two. But let me tell you something… I may be well on my way to crazy cat lady status if I don't get out and meet some decent women really fucking soon.
I spent Saturday afternoon in my therapist's office… feeling all the feels, crying and indulging in my own little "but I'm a lovable failure" pity party. Which is not something I do often. Crying that is. Or self-indulgent pity parties. Or, well, therapy either, but it's been a motherfucker of a year. But I digress. Then, I switched gears. I put my big girl pants on, as well as my game face, and got ready for a date that wound up getting cancelled two hours before our scheduled meet-up. And so I spent Saturday evening in my yoga pants and sweatshirt cuddled up with my little monsters. And Sunday was no different... On the couch watching football and spooning the felines. And, after a nice walk with Gay Husband on Monday night? Right back to the sofa with the little devils. And on Tuesday? You get the picture right?
I am slowly becoming one of those women who have full on conversations with her cats. I caught myself walking through the door after work last night and actually asking my Fatty, "How was your day, Bucket? Was it good?" (Of course, it doesn't help that he never fails to feline speak whenever I talk to him. I blame his fat ass for encouraging me. He's quite the chatty bastard.) Now, it's not that I'm mute around my cats, it's just that when I do talk to them, the conversations are pretty limited to "Don't scratch the couch, asshole!", or "Are you hungry?", or "You pissed on the floor? What is wrong with you?!", or "Good boy. I love you." But really? Asking my cat how his day went? I think I'm one more bad date, cancelled date or cheating lover away from my next adoption.