Kittens for sanity
It may have been a hasty decision to abandon the good ship lollipop of my Astoria apartment with delightful roommates and move out to suburgatory Bayside on my own. Had this been a controlled experiment, with living alone being the only variable, we might have might have had the opportunity to name some new mental disorders. For now, it seems we may not have that opportunity, and I attribute that to my cats.
I wonder if it is a phenomenon similar to an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation in which the kittens are receptacles for my insanity. They keep me sane yet at the same time go insane themselves. It certainly would explain their behavior.
Or it may just be that they provide me with enough distraction, entertainment, and love that I bypass the demons waiting for idleness to allow them in.
Let's go with the former.
I wonder if it is a phenomenon similar to an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation in which the kittens are receptacles for my insanity. They keep me sane yet at the same time go insane themselves. It certainly would explain their behavior.
Or it may just be that they provide me with enough distraction, entertainment, and love that I bypass the demons waiting for idleness to allow them in.
Let's go with the former.