Today I went to put on my shoes and felt something shift and dig into my foot. Because I feel like the universe is out to get me my first instinct was that I’d just stepped on a spider, and I flew into a panic, turned the shoe upside down and began to shake the shit out of it in the hopes of killing the mighty survivor spider that had the tenacity to survive the smash of my foot and the delicacy to be jostled to death.

What I found instead was a total of ten rings I’d pulled from milk gallons over the course of a few months and given to my cat to play with. Since I’d last worn these shoes the night before, I’m assuming my cat spent her evening filing her toys away in my shoes in her continued campaign of adorable terror. 

The bandit in question is Arya, and she’s pictured here with her weapons of my near heart attack. As always the score is Arya: 1,000,000 and me: 0.

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