So, I'm sitting in my little office right? Desk, computer, old beat-up swivel chair that is big enough to accommodate my legs if I want to cross them yoga-style on my lap, which I do often.
And I have this cat, who's real name is "Grace", but picked up the moniker of "Baby" because she was always the baby of the family (and she acts like it too), and she just HAS to either sit on my lap or be in this chair if I'm in the office. Well, she gets heavy after awhile and I put her down on the floor. A few minutes pass, she jumps back up. And gets heavy again after awhile so I put her down. Or, if I get up to get something to drink or whatever, she jumps up in the chair and s-p-r-e-a-d-s out so I can't sit down. So, I pick her up and put her in my lap, until she gets heavy again and I put her down on the floor.
Lather, rinse, repeat. This little charade goes on for months.
Finally, frustrated at having to put her down on the floor so often because it frickin' hurts my arm to lift her weight, I drag another chair into the office, put a blanket on it, put the cat on the blanket, and tell her, "this is your chair". And she's thrilled right? Purr, purr, purr, loves her chair and blanket. First few days were great, we both have our chairs, all is right in the world.
Enter cat number 2. You know where this is going, don't you. Cat number 2 is "Pumpkin" (that's Ms. Pumpkin to you), but I call her "Orange Kitty", just because I want to. Well, Orange Kitty has decided that SHE likes the chair with the blanket, and hasn't left it for two days now.
Of course, Baby is back on my lap for the moment, pretty soon I will put her down on the floor. And she will stare at Pumpkin and her chair, and then look at me like I am guilty of some sort of conspiracy, right before she jumps back up in my lap.
Guess I need a bigger office that can accommodate another chair.
And people wonder why I never wanted kids.