Dodging around cages and stepping over toys (in every room) doesn't strike you as inconvenient. Or even unusual.
You're so used to the one that sleeps around your neck that you nearly go off to work "wearing" him (happened to me!)
You do a remarkable fandango any time you feel anything remotely tail-like under your foot, trying not to step on it.
Your usual sleeping position resembles an Egyptian hieroglyph, trying to fit around all the cats in the bed.
Someone asks if you live alone and you blurt "Oh no, I have six cats!"
The vet, the rescue group, and the shelter are the first three speed-dials on your phone.
Every magnet on the fridge is a cat, pawprint, or spay/neuter motif.
Your car weighs an extra 5 lbs from all the rescue and spay/neuter stickers and magnets.
Your car weighs an additional 20 lbs from the trap, carrier, gloves, cans of food, bottle of water, food dishes, newspaper, towel, etc stashed in the back "just in case".
You autopilot to the pet-food section of the supermarket even if you don't need any.