December the WHATETH?

Oh good Lord, it's Christmas in a week.

I should really buy presents.

Not right now at this moment because I'm watching Catfish. I didn't even know this show existed. It's about people who fall in love over the internet but have never met. This guy takes one half of the couple to meet the other without the other's knowledge and so far NO ONE IS WHO THEY SAID THEY WERE. I mean, there were a couple of clues with the first one, seeing as no one who is a model full time and a cue-card writer on the Chelsey Handler show and a tragic past involving three dead sisters is going to be that active online anyway. But it was a girl! A nineteen year old girl! People be crazy, y'all.

At any given moment recently I will hear a rustling noise and look over to see one, two or all cats in the Christmas tree. It's driving me up the wall. Their main reason for being in the tree is, apparently, to see who can knock the most baubles off it and subsequently make me huff and puff and complain about having to hang them again. I woke up yesterday and the angel from the top of the tree was on the lounge floor, looking at me with a kind of shell-shocked, traumatised expression. She'd been through things, man.

No matter how motionless you are, I CAN STILL SEE YOU, CAT.