he surest sign that the bedroom is a mess is a fluffy balled up cat sleeping on all those sheets of papers on the floor. There. He shivered in his sleep. Maybe he's fighting off a tomcat in his dream. One paw is covering his eyes, like a drunkard with a hangover denying the morning after. How am I going to clean this up if I keep staring at him? There! He shifted, exposing his fluffy belly. As I scratch it his whiskers twitch, and then he stretches to his full length, kicking away the previous semester's stacks of photocopies. I used to spend nights writing with only him, Bolabola, sleeping on my books, for company. Now, new cats add to the roster. Behind me, snug-comfy on the beanbag that Bolabola used to completely own, are two more cats, not really cats, just a bit older than kittens: Bangus and Lasing, two new whiskers who sleep in the room at night, on mornings, at noon.
I'm going to have to ask the two beanbag cats to leave me the room, nicely, so I can start cleaning up. But how to convince them to do that when their elder brother is stretching in the center of the room, and I am tolerating it?
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1 comments:
yes, i notice that too. one cat leads to another. and another. and another. and so on and so forth.
like potato chips, you can't have just one.
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