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Oskar combines a seemingly innate sense of outfits that contrast with his fur with what can only be described as a low-level but constant goal of fucking with my life. Every morning that I need to be somewhere looking presentable I wait till the last minute to put on my clothes and then spend the rest of the time in my apartment dancing around this stupid cat, who even when he doesn't make actual contact seems to have the ability to shoot fur, dart-like, in my direction, until I resort to just pinning him to the floor with my foot while I struggle to get my coat on and leave, and then he starts yowling like it's me that's being the asshole.
Also I've started a job-thing, so that should be interesting. Don't worry, you are all very important to me and I will continue my twice-a-week updates, just maybe not always on Mondays/Thursdays.