you can't eat that!

After a TORMENTOUS, HELLISH WEEK IN THE CAR, my moms and I are finally in our new home. On our last night on the road we hung out with the parents of my mom with the tasty hair. This was much better than the MOTELS in which we'd been hanging out, and not just because my FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD (i.e., the dad of my one mom) was there. The house was big and smelled of all kinds of interesting things. However, I quickly became OVERWHELMED and, as is my wont, RETREATED UNDER THE BED. I only came out for my moms and for my FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD, who by the way was very excited to have me over for a short visit.

But soon we were in our new home, and once I was sure that my moms were not going to PICK ME UP AND TAKE ME ELSEWHERE again, I set about EXPLORING. This caused my moms much consternation because I had to be reminded multiple times that EVEN THOUGH THE SCENERY IS DIFFERENT, ALL OF THE RULES ARE THE SAME. I am still not allowed to do things like JUMP ON THE COUNTERS, SNACK ON PLASTIC BAGS, or LICK THE EMPTY TUNA CANS.

There are also new things I cannot do, like PLAY IN THE CLOSETS or SIT ON THE PIANO. Actually, I have never been allowed to sit on the piano, but I did not have trouble remembering this in our old house. But here the piano is right behind the couch, on which I am allowed to sit. I do not understand why, if the couch is touching the piano, permission to sit on the couch does not extend to the piano. I think maybe this is the basis of problems in WORLD GEOPOLITICS.

I also cannot PLAY IN THE PANTRY. This is truly a shame because in the pantry is the MOST MARVELOUS AMUSMENT PARK RIDE EVER. It is a cat-go-round. I know how to operate it myself, but I AM NOT ALLOWED. This prohibition has nothing to do with my height and everything to do with my FELINE NATURE.

Here I am being CAUGHT IN THE ACT:



There are other places to play in the pantry, but none of them is as fun as the cat-go-round.



As my moms are very well aware, I do not deal well with CLOSED DOORS. It does not matter what side of the door I am on. So I hang around and wait for the doors to OPEN, and then when they do, I just have to hope that my moms are PAYING ATTENTION TO SOMETHING OTHER THAN ME. This is not something I hope for very often. Just when the pantry door opens and the tune of the cat-go-round organ begins to resonate in my walnut-sized brain.

Labels: household items