If you ever seek a way to drive yourself insane, then spend a few days trying to keep a cat away from your brand new furniture.
At first I thought we were winning. The cats seemed to be avoiding the entire room and I prematurely congratulated myself on having ‘trained’ the cats. But I noticed the one cat–the smart one–was watching us as we gave each other a high-five. “Suckers,” she was probably thinking.
As soon as we noticed the puncture marks we knew there were only two choices: surrender the furniture to the cats or move it behind closed doors. That’s how I found myself on one heavy end of a couch, lugging it into my office where it overwhelms the small space. We’ll put the ugly brown couch back in the den and we won’t have to worry any more.
Now when we want to admire our new furniture, we can peer at it through the glass in the french doors of my office, where it sits safe and sound, and unused. Or maybe I could switch professions and put it to use as a psychiatry couch–John does look fairly comfortable laying on it now.
But no. John has a better idea. “Let’s not talk about it anymore,” he says. “Let’s have a bourbon.”
Ah, now that’s the spirit! Things are finally back to normal around here.