I love to groom. I am fastidiously clean, need a toiletry area that is immaculate and scent-free. Heavy perfumes distress me more than loud noises, vacuum cleaner excepted. The hairless tom loves that machine. He runs it all over the place!

It may then come as a surprise to you that I love messes. Ok, the title of the post may ahve been a dead giveaway but still, does it leave you incredulous that I, a cat, fantasize about disorder? *Purring Sigh* — rumpled sheets to nest in, satchels left on sun warmed window ledges to rest on, chairs pulled away from tables so I can jump up with room to spare, butter slices dropped on the floor, a basket of warm laundry to crawl into as the missus is away distracted by the phone, a pantry door left ajar for me to investigate far past the package of flour.

If course it would be too much to hope to get all of those at one time. Still, just as they dream of a hairless breathing environment, I dream of sumptious littering of fuzzy dry blankets to nap on, inhaling old cheddar heavenly mess.

Sweet dreams all!