My cat has some serious issues.
Last night, while doing some basic maintenance in my bedroom -- I wouldn't call it 'cleaning' so much as 'excavating enough of the floor that nothing crunches when I walk' -- I spotted a bright pink strap that looked suspiciously like it belonged to one of my missing bras. I moved in that direction, leaned down, snagged the strap...and from beneath the bed popped a veritable bezoar of brassieres. Fifteen of them, all tangled together like a nest of angry snakes. Which rather explains why I haven't been able to find any of them recently.
Lilly entered the room while I was performing underwear archeology, and proceeded to tell me at great length that I was messing with her stuff. I pulled rank, in the 'I out-mass you by a factor of lots' sense, and returned my bras to the underwear drawer.
My cat. Going cheap, I swear.
Lilly entered the room while I was performing underwear archeology, and proceeded to tell me at great length that I was messing with her stuff. I pulled rank, in the 'I out-mass you by a factor of lots' sense, and returned my bras to the underwear drawer.
My cat. Going cheap, I swear.