Cat Ramps At 1 AM

Okay, so it's 1:23 am and I'm sitting in my delightfully bland dorm room in State College, Pennsylvania. My lovely boyfriend of (almost) two years is staying at an aunt and uncle's house in the Chicago suburbs for the weekend. Right at this very moment I receive the following text message from him:

"I just stubbed my toe on a fricking cat ramp."

This statement leaves me with an array of feelings. First and foremost, the irony of his utter detest for the feline species. He's allergic, to begin with, and he hates on their personalities as well. And I mean hate...he has glaring contests with my cat, Copernicus. Now, my immediate reaction is to do a quick, guilty "lol" (and I do) at the thought of dear Spencer stubbing his toe on anything, nevertheless a cat ramp, especially at 1 in the morning, sick as a dog (might be the flu). Add that to the fact that we just finished skyping and he's wearing a red t-shirt with a red pair of shorts. The reds are two different shades, mind you (like that makes a difference...). Clash much? Ah, the delights of leaving young college males to dress themselves. He is also feeling rather nauseous...you know how guys get when they're "sick"...they like to ham it up a little. He claims that, you know, he is all 'shaky' and in his mouth are those 'pools of spit that you get before you puke'. Hahaha, I say, you'll be fine.

After my "lol", I then begin to ponder what exactly a "cat ramp" might be. Dear Lord, these people must love their cats if they build a ramp for them. A ramp onto what? The couch? The bed? I can only hypothesize but my mind wanders and the image of Spence just ramming into the thing cracks me up to no end.

Roo---if you're reading this, I love ya...and I hope that you found some pepto-bismol.