You Don’t Want to Hear About My Good Day

September 1, 2005 psipsina

Tonight the litterbox needed changing.

While I was emptying and cleaning it, the cat pissed on the newspapers I’d left on the floor where the box usually is, leaving me a lovely yellow puddle to clean up.

Stupid animal couldn’t wait 5 minutes??  Can you say Bad Kitty?!

Time to get out the mop …

Then the Red-Haired Boy and I started making dinner. Our fridge is a disorganized mess right now, and while juggling the plain yogurt, the three containers of leftover takeout food, the 108 cucumbers left from last week’s farm share, and the various little containers of stuff we can no longer identify, the pitcher of orange juice tumbled to the floor, bounced twice, and lost its top.

Then I lost my top.  I’m afraid I said a bad word.  Actually, I said a whole string of bad words, but who’s counting?

The pitcher, made of plastic, was unharmed, but the orange juice made another lovely yellow puddle on the floor.

Time to get out the mop … again.

While we were mopping, dinner started to burn.  At least this did not create a yellow puddle.

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