The Hubby called me at the office a little while ago. I quickly filled him in on all the craziness I've been through today, to schedule a CT scan on my injured hand, and an ortho doc appointment after. He was silent for a beat, then described the disaster left by Manny and Chili Bruce in the kitchen this afternoon. Apparently, those crazy cats managed to open the screen door, and explored everything on the counter tops. They opened the kibble cupboard, and pulled down everything on the shelves! Some items fell, subsequently pushing over the filtered water pitchers, which tumbled down... smashed...creating mighty puddles on the ancient linoleum tile. Water under the stove, broken pieces of stuff everywhere, the whole nine yards! I DID NOT laugh; instead, I made appropriate noises to mollify his hurt feelings. Even offered to come home early, to help with clean up, but he rebuffed me. Although The Hubby WANTED to be mad...he simply could not. Really, he was mad at himself, since it's been clear for days that Da Boyz had been working hard to get that screen door open. Outsmarted by the cats! No photos will be taken of the destruction; you'll just have to let your imagination fill in the blanks. No cats were harmed either...that's the most important thing!
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| "Who?!? US?!? |
P.S. The stairway, scratching post and runway in our house were all designed and manufactured by The Hubby, using wood found around the house and donated by my brother, and flotsam and jetsam gathered over time. We keep tweaking things, like adding pieces of carpet to the steps, because the cats run so fast and were prone to slip. The son of a carpenter, The Hubby has mad skills, plus a basement and barn filled with tools, nails, hinges, drawer pulls, rope, old carpet beaters, doors, windows, cigar boxes of screws, staples, and every other whatnot and doohickey from the past sixty years. Seriously.
