Get Down

GET DOWN. GET DOWN. GET DOWN. The neighbors probably think I'm absolutely nuts by now as that's all they likely hear from me. I am not getting down as in grooving to the music. Of course, I'm yelling at Henry, who has a new obsession of climbing up my shelving unit and knocking shit off. He rarely gets up there when I'm gone, because I rarely ever see anything on the floor. However, when I am in the room and obviously occupied doing something else, he makes a beeline for it, and looks at me to see if he can get a reaction, while he's doing it. I yell at him, he goes even further and meows back at me. I eventually have to stop what I'm doing and get up to take him down. By this time he meows at me again and jumps down. All for naught. Then, as soon as I sit down again and resume my activity...he jumps up there again. What a little shit.

GET DOWN. GET OUT OF THERE. STOP TOUCHING THAT. LEAVE IT ALONE. JUMP OFF THE BALCONY...