I’ve moved into my new apartment and it’s splendid. I have a kitchen that I can bake whatever the fuck I want now without my aunt saying shit. I get my own room too. I have my own closet. I have enough room to have a proper computer desk. I have a book case now for the shit load of books I have. I can hang posters and stuff all over and no body will give a shit. Mom has her own proper room too. We’ve got a nice living room that’s big enough. We’ve got it good right now. We’re both loving our new home and it just feels right.

Then there’s the cat….she’s not adjusting as well as we thought she had. I get allergies easily now and that counts her fur at times. Or her litter box. So I’ve moved it to the living room in a little corner, her own personal corner. She’s got the couch to lay on and the other seat in the living room, or roll around the floor all she wants.

But no, all she wants is to stay in my room. All day. I’m trying to get her to stay outside and out of my room because hello, allergies. I love her to bits but I do need my own breathing space. I tried locking her out of my room, but now she’s gotten into the habit of trying to push the door open with her fat ass. Keeps me up at night because she’s hell bent on not letting me sleep until I open the damn door.

So I leave my door open so she can come and go as she pleases. Nope…she’s still sticking to my room. Only goes out to poop and eat.

I gotta fix her of her anxiety and obsession with constantly having to have me in her line of sight. It’s costing me a non-runny nose and non-scratchy eyes.

Goddamnit Cathy, just learn to be a normal cat. ene