Cats are like toddlers.

I was all ready to post about how the only bad thing Char did all day was hit the alarm clock off of the nightstand this morning. She then laid on my shoulder and purred in my face for 10 minutes until my arm fell asleep. 

It's called cuddling! 

It is, but you are on a computer ban right now because you can't be trusted around anything. 

But, but, but... 

Yes, you are a butt. 

Anyways. Tonight I am working on a paper when I look over to see Charlie using the carpet and my old sweats that I kicked off before bed last night (oops! missed the laundry basket which won't be happening ever again) as her new litterbox. After living with a female cat since 4th grade you can easily recognize the turn-in-circles-and-squat sign that what ever is beneath them is now a cat port-a-potty. I went over and picked her up and plopped her into her real litter box, and called her some not-so-nice names. I then went and started the clean-up process- thank goodness for carpet cleaner and a vacuum! I think Char could tell I wasn't happy with her because she followed from a distance when I didn't carry her around with me when I went upstairs. 

Cats are like toddlers: they have no idea what sleep patterns are, have no respect for personal bubbles, and still need potty (re)training sometimes.