Cat: You don't understand, you must let me out into the world, I yearn to be free and unfettered by domesticity

Same cat five minutes later: WHY DID YOU BANISH ME TO THE FROZEN REALMS OF THE OUTER WORLD THERE IS NOTHING BUT A WASTELAND THERE HOW DARE YOU SIR

With every passing day I better understand the mothers in Victorian novels who stay in their bedrooms with the curtains closed and complain vaguely about their “nerves.”

I’m rereading The Great Gatsby, and I’m happy to see that even in 1920s literature, “rich white football player” was synonymous for “huge piece of shit”

*taps mic* is this thing on?