The cat tree got here safely. It was a 70 pound box, so I’m sure my UPS guy loves me. I DO have to work with the guy, after all, and he knows where I live. Sorry, Aaron. You chose this life.

Enough about Big Brown. I got home from work early last night and starting pulling the straps off (we call them “hub snakes” in the business. Insider knowledge. Easy to trip on.) and pulling all the pieces out. The boyfriend looked at me like I was crazy and said “Really? You’re going to do that now? I’ll do it this weekend.” But I was determined, and he is not to be trusted putting things together because he forgets that things are made too cheaply for his high construction standards and ends up tightening things to the point of breaking. Besides, I like putting things together. And the boyfriend has a sinus infection, which I told him he had before he went to the doctor, but NO ONE listens to me. He never gets sick. I get sick twice a year, every year, and my sinuses ALWAYS hate me. I had a minor nosebleed all day Monday. This bitch knows sinuses.

I digress, as usual. He retired upstairs as I cracked a beer and got to checking out the instructions while the cats inspected the box it came in, plus the styrofoam. I inspected each piece while I pondered starting. Then I decided that I did not, in fact, feel like putting that shit together.

So I piled things (appropriately, so the cats don’t knock piles over and hurt themselves), spilled my beer, then also retired upstairs where the sick boyfriend and I watched Tosh.O and I laughed.

Sorry kitties. I worked all day. Slaving over a hot desk so you could eat. You can wait.

They don’t care. They just want food anyway.