I’m cleaning, I’ve swept the office, I pulled the rocking chair, table and lamp away from the wall and got on my hands and knees to clean up cat pee, pulled the full cedar chest out from the wall to clean cat pee from next to it and under it, I’ve done all of the litterboxes in the house, I need to vacuum the little pieces of litter that keep sticking to my bare feet because they’re annoying the hell out of me.
I don’t think this is what the doctor meant when he said to “take it easy and rest”, but damn it, someone has to clean around here and the maid quit (wait, we’ve never had a maid, just me). Didn’t help this morning when he says before he walks out the door “gee, they’re sure peeing a lot in that corner, a lot more than they used to….”
The same corner I’ve complained about cleaning for months now, that corner that I had to clean three times in four hours just a couple of weeks ago. WTF? No, they’re not “peeing more” I’m cleaning less. You know why?
I was in a fricking car accident last Sunday that could have ended a lot worse than it did. He tells me “not to dwell on it”. Huh? Well, at least I’m not in denial that it ever happened, you know? I just get the feeling it’s “well, you didn’t die, you’re not in the hospital, so now get back to work” type of thinking. I’m just not feeling the love.
Bad mood. Bad, bad mood. Angry woman here.
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