Poop Poop, Fuzz Fuzz, Oh What A Nice Cat She Was

Norbert is leaving this weekend. (I think she is anyhow.) Luckily she's thought ahead and left me all the stuff I need to make a new Norbert, namely bits of poo and tufts of cat hair the size of Roseanne. I figure I can scrape the poo bits off my floor and press them together in the shape of a cat, and then upholster my creation with all the residual cat hair from behind my stereo equipment and from off my blankets and chairs.

This poo-kicked-out-of-the-litter-box-and-squished-to-the-floor stuff is a new and highly unwelcome development. I've been made fun of for never, ever walking around barefoot. And I realize it's cheating to say a retro active I told you so, but every time my slipper sticks another turd to the tile I feel vindicated.