In which the blogger yawns, stretches, and slits his wrists

So far this morning, I've woken up at 7 am with cotton mouth and a searing hangover; had a panic attack; ordered a java chip Frappucino and received a watery disgusting mess; had an hour-long fight with my boyfriend while driving a friends car (that I'm not insured on) in spite of the fact that I don't even possess a valid driver's license; fought with Sunday morning Lakeview traffic to secure a parking space near my building; spilled tuna water all over my kitchen counter.

So far this morning, my cat has woken up in the blazing Chicago morning sun; received a neck massage; eaten six salmon treats; chased a Coke bottle cap across the room a few times; taken a nap; gotten tangled in a cable wire; gotten brushed twice; received three more treats; eaten half a can of tuna.

That cat has my fucking life.