After watching hours of murder reality television, mostly because I'm too lazy to make decisions about what to watch next and also because I find the narrator voices soothing, I realized how depressing it was.
"We should turn this off. We should get rid of the televisions," I said, never one to do anything half-ass (except for all the other things).
Mr. Ashley ignored me.
"We should just watch kittens instead."
I have four cats now. I don't know if I fail at kitten rescue or if I'm amazing at it, but I have double the number of cats I intended to have and quadruple the number he wants. It's a sore subject.
I love the cats, though. A lot. All day and night long.
"Ashley. You are crazy. The cat thing is out of control. I'm not joking right now."
"Wait, wait -- you never listen. Hear me out. We get a big box and two more cats. We decorate the box to look like a gigantic television set, put all six of the cats in there and watch them instead."
He stared at me. Incredulous? Impressed? Hard to say.
"No, for real, you are literally insane. As in, I am seriously concerned for you and your future because you get crazier by the second and I don't want to live like this, with more cats."
"Why? Because we need a minimum of six cats to make it work? Admit it, it's an amazing idea."
"No. It's not. It's even crazier than having four cats."
So, I need two more cats and a box that looks like a television before the presidential debates tonight. He'll come around.