Karen is gone for a week to some work related thing in Kansas or some other flat state, and I am left to my own devices. It’s the end of day three, and already the house, which was mostly immaculate when she left, is in a constantly worsening state of disaster. There is literally topsoil on the carpet. More on that later.
I haven’t ventured further than the concrete slab in front of the garage since the week began. Oh crap, I just realized the mail is probably piling up in the mailbox, which is too far to walk to, at least too far for us Americans.
So far, this week hasn’t required me to travel for my work and it looks like the same for the rest of the week. So my days are spent working from home, showering about noon, not shaving at all, and sitting idly by while the cats wreak havoc on various household items, including but not limited to the plant in the living room whose soil, instead of being in the pot, is now mostly lying in a pile beside it, the rolls of toilet paper in both bathrooms which have been unrolled and shredded, and the laundry hampers which have been tipped over and emptied of their contents. But still I am attached to the little critters and let them wallow in my lap while I am trying to work, dirty paws and all, and still I clean their litter box each day, and still I feed them and let them lick the peanut butter from the jar’s lid while I make a sandwich.
And speaking of sandwiches, the necessity of food may actually require me to leave my domicile tomorrow and go to the grocery store because tonight I had to resort to eating a can of cream of chicken soup that is who knows how old, and who even knows what cream of chicken is in the first place but I think I might not have cooked it long enough because I don’t feel the greatest at the moment. So that will mean showering AND shaving tomorrow. And changing pants.
Friday, undoubtedly, will consist of cleaning and picking up clothes and leaves from the plants that have been scattered about. And it won’t be easy because I will be tired from lack of sleep because the cats wake me up very early most mornings wanting my spot in the bed, and the only way to talk them out of it is to scratch their chins until they fall asleep, drooling on my arm. I’m outnumbered two to one, so it’s my only option now because I have given them all of the chapstick tubes that I have and still they want more. When did I lose control? When?
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