Everyone knows how I feel about cats.
Joe, the evil (notice how "evil" is an anagram of "vile?") feline strikes again. Honestly, that animal's days in this house are numbered. Friday night, I made the most beautiful, succulent pork chops of my life. Craig was coming home late from being in Chicago and I had put aside a great dinner for him--2 chops, rice, and broccoli, covered with plastic wrap.
I read Ainslie two stories.
I heard something in the kitchen. Joe had eaten the ENTIRE plate of food. This is not the first time he's done something like this. One night we accidentally left the pantry door open a crack when we went out and he ate an entire loaf of bread. He routinely gets the trash can out and spreads coffee grounds around the kitchen. I loathe and despise this animal.
So anyway, after the pork chop incident, I lost it. I started just screaming unintelligibly, to avoid using words I'd have to explain about later. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to call Craig to tell him he would not, after all, have dinner waiting for him, when Ainslie got all wide-eyed.
"Mommy! Are you calling...GOD?"
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1 comment:
Honey, if I were calling God, we'd no longer have a cat ;)
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