To quote Phnee, I love my cats.

I'm frantically typing an essay that's due today - last minute rush WORKS for me. This essay, at the moment, makes sense, and I'm saying relevant things with appropriate grammar. Oh yeah. This works. The Cat, however, seems to disagree with this mode of work, and is currently having fun crawling into my bookshelves and having fun tossing books down onto the ground when he wants to get out. This, of course, is rather jarring, and jerks me right out of essay-typing mode.

It's aggravating, and The Cat is THISCLOSE to becoming a pair of very warm gloves. Except, well, not, 'cause I do love him. But... he's getting locked up in the stairwell if this happens again, I swear.