Catbox

Weird as it may be, I work in a condo in a high-rise. Literally, my 'office' is the living room, with a southern view and a cut-out in the wall that goes into the kitchen. It's weird. I mean it's a home, but it's work. Like I could get naked, but not.

The unit above 'mine' is undergoing some sort of renovation today -- I'm guessing the walls are being plastered? All I know is it sounds like a very-amplified version of the scratching my cats do on the side of the catbox, after they're 'done' but before they exit. You know, that 'oh, fuck -- I have litter stuck in between my paw pads' noise? It sounds exactly like that... only much, MUCH louder. Like their whole living room is a giant catbox for... well, let's just say that we let *that* fucker loose in the streets, and Daley's dumpster issues are a thing of the past. That and the homelessness. And babies. Delicious, plump little babies....