absurdism in action. Irony, in a manner of thinking.
|I hate leaving my house. So I sit.
Alone, with my cat.
I don't think of myself as having company when Nigel the cat is around, because Nigel is really more an extension of myself. He walks with me, stands by the fridge with equal snobbery, expects an equal slice of bread and butter (even though he just licks the butter off). I am shocked at thoughts of my own mortality and his being separate.
I think maybe tomorrow I will have jam instead of butter. I wonder if Nigel will be upset.
This story originally appeared on http://www.absurdist.cc
under my pen name for that site, which is "Ms Eleanor Q Rigby."