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May. 8th, 2006

The apartment. She is CLEAN! As in, there are vast swathes of carpet! That's been vacuumed within an inch of its life! And scads of neatly-stacked books and games! (It's cluttered - we've got a lot of stuff, whatcha gonna do?) We can have the apartment inspected and not be horrifically embarrassed! My mother, she is teh r0x0rs! (She came up on Saturday, and worked like a demon with us until Sunday. Never in my life have I seen that woman so pissed as when we told her she couldn't run the vacuum right then, because it was after 10pm and there are noise restrictions between 10pm and 10am on weekends. She actually stamped her foot like a little kid. "But I wanna vacuum NOW!")

The cats are horrifically confused. "But, but, where'd all the stuff go? The piles of things we could sleep on and knock over in the middle of the night and wake you up? And what's up with this 'carpet' stuff?" Ramses spent some time in the bedroom, flopped over and rolling around, but Feina doesn't trust it. She still hops from dresser to desk to chair, without touching the floor if she can help it. Apparently, as a kitten she was stepped on because she was a)teeeeeeeeeny and 2)colored to blend in with the carpet. She's a little wary around both floor and shoes now.

So, yeah. People should, like, come over, and oooh and aaah at the apartment, and how pretty it is, and then go away. Because that way, it stays all pretty-like and clean. I'm starting to think that plastic on the furniture might not be a bad idea.

...dear God, I'm turning into Donna Reed. Send help!



May. 9th, 2006 02:57 am (UTC)
How dare you take away the playthings of your cats! How can they live without paper to knock over and crunch?

Feina sounds adorably neurotic.

I suppose I should congratulate you for cleaning, but I will instead look at you askance and take part in an intervention if necessary.

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