You can't remember the last time you used a computer. All you do nowadays is watch a cat while she sits on your hands.
You haven't fully processed the fact that your cat's demands have become increasingly elaborate in nature:
Your shower does not belong to you anymore:
And neither does your toilet:
Even the dog understands that everyone else in the house is a second-class citizen:
Your cat interrupts you while you're working because she "didn't like the way your face looked":
Even your attempts to be accommodating are peremptorily rejected:
You've long since given up telling him that he can't just sit anywhere he wants:
You may pet her, but she will let you know when it has become tiresome:
Your laundry isn't properly "clean" until it is completely covered in cat hair:
Your hair is a plaything:
You have come to realize that the "games" you and your cat play together aren't very fun at all:
Your morning ritual is a humiliating misery:
Your dinner is not really your own.
You are reconciled to daily indignities such as having your evening snack used as a face-warmer:
The constant. COMPLAINING.
And the constant sense that you are being judged, laughed at, and basically dismissed as a person:
You have come to accept petty thievery as just a thing that happens to you sometimes:
The only time when you are appreciated at all is when you are performing a service:
But you can expect severe displeasure if you ever have the audacity to get tired of it:
Your privacy is no longer even remotely sacred:
And your life is an unending series of increasingly absurd degradation:
And, after all that, your cat still blanks you in public: