Today is the annual observance of “Clean the House Before Company Shows Up For Thanksgiving Day”. It’s a grand holiday with parades and fireworks and floats. Of course the parades are out to the trash barrel; the fireworks come after we’re overtired; and you don’t even wanna know what floats…
Of course, we could go with a completely different theme and think of it as an archaeological dig. From the fossil record, we will be able to tell what kinds of snacks our year-ago ancestors ate.
Or, if you prefer, it’s a battle. A battle with clutter and shed cat hair. Already, we have found enough material to create a fifth cat.
I hadn’t even had my coffee before Crisis Numero Uno struck. Pepperkat crashed on the couch last night and woke up without her glasses on. They are nowhere to be found. (I believe the dust bunny army took them back to their lair to use as the final component of their death ray, but that’s just me.)
And I started typing this almost 3 hours ago, but got interrupted to take the blind Pepperkat to a Girl Scout car wash. On the way out the door, I asked if there were any housecleaning supplies I should bring back. “Donuts,” came the reply. But not just any donuts… a specific brand of boxed donuts. I searched three grocery stores and a convenience store for these donuts. It is now almost 11am, and I have returned with the donuts. But who the hell wants donuts for lunch?
Gotta run. I think the dust bunny army just kidnapped my son.