Cats are very lucky because they can hide just about anywhere.
I’m sure there are downsides, but it would be nice if when Victor was calling me to show me how I’d loaded the dishwasher wrong again I could just disappear, and then hours later when I showed up I’d be like, “You were calling me? Sorry. I was asleep in the dryer.” Or “I couldn’t hear you because I got shut in a drawer. My bad.” You can’t get mad at that.
Plus, he couldn’t yell at me for loading the dishwasher incorrectly because I’m a cat and cats don’t clean.
Or rather, they do, but in different ways. Like, they clean their butts with their tongues. Which actually sounds much worse than having to load the dishwasher now that I think about it.
Never mind. I guess the grass is always greener on the side of the fence, until you realize you have to lick your own butt-hole on that side, and then you decide you prefer your original side, where all you have to do is just poorly load the dishwasher enough times that your husband will just loudly huff and passive-aggressively reload it for you.
PS. I still think it’s a little unfair that I can’t hide in the dryer, but I suppose we can’t have everything, and I think I’ll remind Victor of that small injustice next time he yells at me about the dishwasher. That way he’ll know that I’m suffering too.