After the maid service left yesterday, we had a problem.
First, let me say that, yes, we have a maid service, despite the fact that I don't technically have a job. Not a jobby-job, anyway. Despite the fact that I don't go off to work each morning, we decided to hire someone to clean our house once a week. Why? Because we have so many animals that it is impossible for me to keep the house clean and watch the baby at the same time. I suggested locking the animals in a closet all day (or the baby) but Bobbi said no. Instead, we hired a maid service to keep the house free of the piles of animal hair that move across the floor and lodge in the corners like snow-drifts, ready to kill a small child should it wander into one. A husband and wife come over every Monday and clean for two hours. Everyone is happier and I can now say "Pine-Sol" in Portuguese. Also, we had to get a service because Bobbi is a slob.
Anyway, yesterday, right after the maid service left, Kitty decided to pee on the bathroom floor. Naturally, I was pissed ( no pun) but Bobbi was livid. In a burst of righteous anger heretofore unwitnessed in the history of our marriage, she picked up Kitty, marched to the front door and tossed her out, shouting, "See how you like it out there!"
I was stunned. "listen, if you want to kill the cat, take it down to the vet and have it put to sleep.... but you can't put a 30-pound Persian out in the street in the middle of August."
"Fine, she goes to the pound this weekend. I've had it."
So, Kitty now has a few more days to get on Bobbi's good side again or it's sleep-city.
One things for sure, if you ever come to visit our house, don't pee on the floor. Really.