The World According To Me

My alarm went off at 5am this morning, and I duly ignored it for a full hour. I'm getting very good at that. I dragged myself out of bed, my body tight and sore from returning to the gym last night with too much vigour. Shuffled to the kitchen, flipped the kettle on.

I turned to walk into the sun-room and open the back door, when my eyes were drawn to loungeroom #1 (of 2). The one where my Christmas tree is. The Christmas tree I finally got this year after 8 years of living away from home and promising myself every one of those years that I would get one. The Christmas tree which I and my sisters lovingly decorated with fairy lights, purple metallic drums, thick silver tinsel and dozens of shiny red baubles (Hey, I never said it was a classy Christmas tree).

The Christmas tree that was now strewn across the floor.

A little grey furry head popped up from the middle of it dragging the thread from a shiny red bauble in her mouth. Given that Esme weighs less than a kilogram, I was pretty positive that she hadn't acted alone in this crime of Christmas. And sure enough, behind the sofa Agnes peeked out with an expression that truly, honestly (and I'm not just being a crazy cat lady here) could only be described as sheepish. She raced over to me and rubbed herself against my ankles, purring to either distract me from the festive carnage in my living room, or to apologise in a cat way. I'm pretty sure it was the former.

The kitten discarded the bauble and moved on to chewing the dislodged casing of a fairy light. Where Aggie had at least had the grace to look ashamed over the 'incident', as it shall be referred to from now on, the little one simply looked defiant; "Yeah, whatchya going to do?". cruch. crunch "I'm too cute for you to get mad at. You know it and I know it". crunch.

Problem is, she's right.

*sigh*