Wagahai wa neko de aru. SERIOUSLY.

Except forget the whole 'wagahai' part. Maybe you know this famous book by Natsume Soseki which roughly translates into I am a cat. Except that he's using the most formal and honorific form as though he was a lord. I will always remember one line in particular, "It was then that I realized that the rice-cake was a fiend." It still cracks me up. Read the freakin' book.

Anyway, I have often wasted time wondering what exactly it is a cat does all day. I mean, don't they get bored? Sometimes when I'd leave my house, Nekko would be sitting in the sunshine, dozing. And when I returned hours later, there she is still in the sunshine, still dozing. Or maybe she's looking out the window at a tree waiting for the elusive squirrel or bird. Whatever her actions, riveting is hardly an adjective that I would ever consider using in describing her day. Somedays I'd envy her lacadaisical existence, other days I'd pity her small world. But always, always I wondered how her 24 hours could possibly pass in the same 24 hours of my world when her world is: breathe, eat, sleep, poop, repeat?

I still don't have an answer even though now my day-to-day resembles her day-to-day more than ever before. The closest thing I can come to a revelation is: Somehow. Somehow the hours pass, somehow it's time to eat or have tea, somehow it's time to sit in the smallest room, somehow it's dark again.

Breathe, eat, sleep, poop, repeat.

(image of me contemplating cat contemplating cat as the parallel to this thought)