Yesterday a Michael was getting ready for work he told me that he had a dream about the cats getting into the yarn. After he was finished telling me about the dream, I commented how long it had been since the cats had gotten into the yarn – I’d gotten good about making sure to put things away at the end of the evening. He laughed and headed out of the bedroom as I began dragging myself out of bed, when suddenly I heard, “Sweetheart…” and the note in his voice made me very nervous.
“The cats got into your yarn.”
Michael must have heard the cats running around in his sleep and realized what it meant. The cats had really gotten into my yarn this time. 500 plus yards of yarn were spread throughout the main room of our apartment, threading themselves through chairs and tables, around the couch and the rest of the room.
The cats had a really good time. Somehow Peake (and I know it was Peake, as he looked entirely too smug) managed to push open the zipper of my backpack and get into my knitting bag from there.
The last two nights have been spent untangling their mess, but I’m happy to report that no yarn was lost to their play.
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| It’s a good thing these guys are so cute. I’m nearly over being mad at them. |
