I can tell there was a “party” when I was gone because there are piles of fur everywhere.
I pick up said fur without comment (usually).
Even though I keep my house clean, I have selective blindness for some pieces of trash randomly on the floor. That’s because my brain magically categorizes these as “toys.”
I recognize them all. I can even tell which q-tips are sanctioned (I give some of them as “toys”) and which are stolen from the trash can upstairs. The trashed ones get tossed.
I have towels on certain surfaces. These also no longer register in my mind as “clutter.”
Cat hair in the food is standard. We’ll call it “fiber” and keep on eating.
I have decidedly one-sided conversations, at least from the point of view of the rest of the world.
I know that the conversations are often two-sided.
I have certain code-words for things that are part of training; don’t ever say “It’s dinner time!” out loud in my house. “Food time” or “supper” is just fine.
I can tell which one it is based on fur texture or tone of meow.
I don’t sit in either of the chairs in the den; it feels weird to me when I do. I have a spot on the sofa and so does J. The two chairs? They belong to the furry ones.
I can type with my arms stretched way out in front of me because of the furry one in my lap.
I see all of the above things are perfectly good parts of life. ^_^