Gaslight

I think that the cat is trying to drive me crazy.

Things keep disappearing around the house. Just *my* things.

Since Max has been living with us, the following things are nowhere to be found:

Both of my winter hats. The two hats that are warm and marginally flattering, that sit lightly on my head thus not squishing the hair style, and don't make me look like a giant doofus (mostly) -- gone. A hat is pretty much a necessity at -18°C. And it's not just one hat missing, but both. So I either wear a dorky looking tuque, or turn the collar up on my coat, hoping it'll catch my ears when they freeze solid and fall off.

The TV remote. The one that changes channels and adjusts the volume. And every time I heave myself off the chair to change the channel manually, he's lying on the back of the couch, smirking at me, all "You are a mere pawn in my master plan, lowly human."

I'm sure the hats and remote are hidden carefully away somewhere, like under Rachel's bed or in a safety deposit box in a Swiss bank.

Then this morning I was almost awake, still suspended somewhere between dreaming and consciousness, listening to his purring from somewhere on the bed. Then it stopped. That was enough to bring me all the way awake. I opened my eyes and stifled a scream. He was standing on my pillow staring at me intently from about 4 inches away. I have no doubt that he's planning on taking over. Either that or he was trying to psychically will me into buying and poaching him some fresh salmon.

I'm going to have to check my browser history pretty carefully. Because if it turns out that while I'm at work he's set up a Paypal account and is trying to order hypnotism lessons online, I'm in real trouble.