As a goddess who treads this earth but is in no way limited to it, I am ruled by no earthly power – the very idea of such a circumstance is worthy of my most withering look. I especially disdain that meager contraption that elicits such fear and trepidation from my two-legger: what they call “the clock”. One glance at this piddling trifle sends my two-legger into a blogging frenzy, leaving me – ethereal goddess of immaculate perfection – short on my daily offerings of love and libations of exotic liqueurs. As you know, I am partial to the cool sweet milky stuff, but no sign of it for days! The priorities of bi-pedals go so easily awry.
I will not stand the denial my rightful shower of love by that unimpressive pseudo-deity they call “the clock”. At its unspoken command, my two-legger appears to be engaging in a face-off with the blogger machine. As her sole proprietor and role model, I believe the task to detach her inferior claws from the clickety-clack at the blogger falls upon my sleek and lustrous shoulders. She must be reminded, yet again, of her duties to me, and that there are now sunny spots aplenty to cuddle me in.
I will make this two-legger led astray an offer she cannot refuse. I will station myself in all my feline glory in front of her blogger screen and pontificate at length about the evils of not preening oneself many times a day. My divine apparition will demonstrate all she is missing by ignoring me. I would not invest in the education of most two-leggers. Between daily preens and sleeps there are only so many hours in a day for such philanthropy; I must admit, however, a minor chink in my goddessy armour: I do have a soft spot for this one.