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Why Would I Have Children When I Have an Incorrigible Cat?
It’s basically the same thing. Right?
Conway Kitty puked on my brand new sheets this morning.
They’ve been on my bed less than three days. I’ve only slept in them twice. And that’s what hurts the most.
I finally upgraded from the thin, cheap big-box retailer sheets that remind me of college to a complete set of luxury sheets. OK, they’re not really luxury sheets because your girl is operating on a budget, but they feel luxurious to me and that’s what matters.
But I’ll tell you what isn’t luxurious.
Grabbing a warm pile of mixed-consistency cat vomit in a paper towel as fast as you can so as not to let it seep through the brand new sheets to your mattress. Shoving said sheets into the washing machine with detergent and bleach and hopes and prayers that it will come out in the wash. And silently screaming a flood of obscenities in your head because if you speak them out loud your sweet, kind, cat-doting neighbor will hear you through the paper-thin walls.
When I see my mother later this weekend and she asks me (again) why I’m so adamantly against granting her a couple of grandchildren, I’ll tell her this story.
