I think a lot of what is so glamorous and attractive about movies is the things in life that they don't include. This is, of course, overlooking the escapism enjoyment of movies, the attractive people/setting/clothing/cars/homes, and the visual adventures that most of us will never experience. More specifically, I'm talking about cat poo.
I've seen many cats in movies, I've even seen a cat poop on a toilet in a movie, but I've never seen a litter box in a movie. Where do these attractive people with their long-haired, fluffy, overgroomed cats keep their litter boxes? Where is the ideal place to put one? The answer: nowhere.
In a two bedroom apartment, there aren't many options. It couldn't be put the front room, definitely not in the dining room or kitchen (ew!), and most assuredly not in the bedroom. The bathrooms are off limits--have you ever had a cat trail litter into a bathtub? The little kernels swell to puffy gray goo the moment they land in a drop of water which, and I guess this could go without saying, but I'll say it: it's disgusting. That leaves one place: the office.
Occasionally, as I'm working away on a story or a query letter, or in this case, a blog, my cat comes in and...to save you from the graphic details, let's just say, I'm overwhelmed, unable to concentrate, and the result, in this case, has been this delightful blog. I promise, tomorrow I'll talk about something pleasant. Right now, I'm going to flee the room!