Last night my cat slept with me, which is less pleasant during the summer than it is in the winter, but I didn't want to discourage her because it is really nice in the winter when the thermostat goes down to fifty-five. I kept waking up because I was so hot or because one of us had moved a little, and I ended up dreaming that I was at work.
I was a hairdresser, and my cat was the supervisor. She didn't talk, though, she just walked around on the counters knocking over all the bottles of hair product and rubbed our legs when she was hungry. I finally asked one of the other hairdressers why our boss was a cat.
"Well, we can't discriminate against a person with catness," she shrugged. She had used person-first language to describe a cat. It was weird. And then I woke up. Again.
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