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Out of context: Reply #66509
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- detritus-1
So I got a load of calls to my work number on Saturday morning, which I was wholly oblivious to until I got in that afternoon, as I'd left my phone here.
Turns out the 'studio cat' had snuck in to my studio here just as I was locking up late on Friday night, and had been heard meowling when people came back in the next meaowning.
They'd ended up getting someone who has access to all studios to come in and let the cat out.
I was honestly wondering what the fuck they'd expect me to do had I picked up the call on Saturday morning and had otherwise been off — waste two hours of my day on a round trip to let some fuckwit cat out of somewhere it shouldn't've been in the first place? Fuck that!
Seemingly Beigel (the cat's name) knew this in advance, so has evidently left me a small present somewhere, which my nose although aware of, is unable to locate exactly.
I fucking hate cats. Well, other people's cats.
Well, other people. Why is there a cat here in the first place?
it's ok, I've only got two clients in later today, so we can call share in this delicious subtle aroma.