I love Sammy. If I were a cat, I'd be Sammy. He does nothing but sleeps and eats all day long, and then he runs at night. He's moody and craps on the bed when he doesn't get his way, and he's a whiny crier when there's a ton of people around.
I love him, don't get me wrong. But he has contributed none to the survival or working order of our home. Ever. Poops, eats, sheds. That's about it.
Today was no exception. I've been packing a room a day (I ROCK! IT's SUCKED THIS WEEK, BUT IT'll TOTALLY BE WORTH IT WHEN IT's MOVING TIME!!) and I'd gotten to the laundry room - his room. As I'd pack, he'd follow me around the house. I packed, took a couple boxed out to the garage, then checked something I'd remembered online. When I returned to the laundry room, I couldn't find him. Then, a furry, lazy, fat head popped out of the boxed of towels I'd been packing.
There was Sammy, always helpful!
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