I invite you into my home. It is a nice home; the 7th floor of a downtown concrete apartment; north facing windows and black steel fire escapes. My walls are lemon yellow and the air smells faintly of an old book you would find in the back corner of a pawn shop that's certainly a front for something else. I invite you into my very nice home to sit on my genuine leather ottoman, quite conveniently placed in front of my couch, but you may not sit there on my couch as my cat Janine has decided to sprawl there instead of his very nice cat tree. Janine has no birthday, Janine, I'm certain, does not care he does not have a birthday. I think he would find the idea of a birthday ridiculous as I am not sure he knows what a Gregorian calendar year is. Janine gives the impression that he is orange and vaguely ugly, but Janine does not care about either of those things either