Sitting here reading a garbage Ludlum novel with Lily on the lap and listening to the Daft Punk album (I really, really liked that performance on the Grammys so I dl’d it), and I looked over on the couch and saw this:

All pet owners will know exactly what I am talking about right now, because when you lean over and see fluffy adorableness like that, you are immediately hit with two competing thoughts:

1.) I want to rub that.

2.) I know if I rub that, it is going to ruin the moment for him.

So basically, what I am confronted with is the cat petting version of the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. I know it is going to be temporarily awesome to just throw my hand into that warm floofy belly, but if I do, I will change the dynamics of the situation forever.

And so I sit here in silence, suffering, knowing how good it could be to grab a handful of that furry gut but not wanting to interrupt Steve’s bliss for a fleeting moment of personal pleasure. And now I can go to bed happy, having not done a god damned thing or sacrificed one bit for my fellow man, but wholly convinced I am an awesome person because I didn’t fuck with my fat cat.

The human mind rules.