By day, they're ordinary (and extraordinarily comfortable) lounge chairs. By night, they become... CHAIRHOPPERS.
By the way, no, I do not do drugs. I'm naturally weirdly imaginative and fear the things I might see if I were to dabble in mind altering substances. There. I knew someone would be wondering.
Back to the chairhoppers on the patio, let me just say upfront that I do love our cats very much. What I don't love so much is their propensity to knead and scratch without first seeking approval of which things to scratch. So, I decided to fold up the chairs at night, which is when the people-plus-cats patio turns into the cats-rule-people-drool-io. Well, no big deal for the felines, they simply plopped themselves on top of the folded chairs. So, I tried again. I folded the chairs partially shut, thinking nary a purrfactory would bother trying to get comfy in one of those. Think again, catmama. Sooooooooooooo, one more time I tried, and with that, I give you the chairhoppers with their backs too slanted for sleeping and their folds too narrow for nesting.
I'm sure I'll pay for this.
I saw them eyeing me.
Ummmm, okay, that's enough blogging for me today since I have to get busy with the to-do list. You know the list, the one that begins with "purchase several cans of sardines, serve said cans to cats, keep fingers crossed that peace has been made."