Caterwauling

I locked myself out of the apartment tonight. Joy and rapture neverending, I’ll tell ya.

I went down to the dark, scary storage room in the basement, and guess who grabbed the wrong set of keys? Meanwhile, I had both sets of apartment keys hanging right inside the front door, but dumbass me took the keyring I used to use at the old apartment. *sigh* Oh, and it was a $10 lockout charge, made payable to the guy who let me back in (as if it killed him to walk the length of two buildings to reach me). Sadly, I don’t even have $10, so I floated a check his way. That check is more rubber than the box of condoms I just found in an old purse. 😉

I had actually left my sliding doors unlocked — a rarity for me. If I could have lifted my fat ass up the railing and gotten to my balcony, I would’ve saved the money I don’t have. But instead, a nice Ethiopian girl allowed me to use her phone. I kept misdialing the apartment complex’s number, so she handed me a Yellow Pages … written in — you guessed it — Ethiopian. 🙂

But I finally got the number and all was well. And I could sure use a cigarette right now, but as cash is flowing downstream, that ain’t possible. Oh well. I’ll live another seven minutes without it. 🙂 And I will carry my keys in my damn bra, from now on!

*off to take a Percoset, courtesy of Paul, who just had his appendix out last weekend. Thanks Paul!* 😀

So the potluck begins in a few minutes. The food actually looks edible. Our already-stanky ladies’ room is gonna smell like a landfill once this shindig is overwith. 🙂

The Short Bus Cat decided it would be a good idea to try to jump into the oven while Mommy tried to dump butter on her sausage ‘shrooms. I caught her and threw her into the dining room. She promptly returned to try it again. After I kicked her out of the way, she decided to lie under the oven door while I did my thing. I complained but she didn’t really give a shit.

Maddie was lookin’ at me like, “Asshole! You would’ve beaten my ass!” But as with children, so goes with cats. The first one doesn’t get away with shit, and the second one can basically juggle knives and run with scissors.

Yeah, I definitely should NOT breed. 🙂

1. What housekeeping chore(s) do you hate doing the most?

Litterboxes are the worst! I need a fucking gas mask and some prozac to get through that adventure.

2. Are there any that you like or don’t mind doing?

I acutally like cleaning all the glass in my house. Granted, I don’t do it all that regularly, but sometimes I will get in the mood to take all 300 of my knickknacks, sit on the floor, and clean them individually. Quite therapeutic — it’s good thinking time. Same goes for cleaning the bathroom — when I do it, I attack it. You can eat off of my bathroom ceilings once I’m done in there — it’s like my anger management. 🙂

3. Do you have a routine throughout the week or just clean as it’s needed?

Definitely as needed, because kitty vomit and shit nuggets crop up whenever it’s good and ready. 🙂 Thank the good lawd for Clorox and Lysol antibacterial wipes.

4. Do you have any odd cleaning/housekeeping quirks or rules?

No dishes in the sink. Ever. Unless they’re soaking. And the shower curtain and toilet lid are closed at all times. And after I clean the bathroom sink, I use an Orange-Glo wipe to make the place smell like creamsicles.

5. What was the last thing you cleaned?

Just ran the dishwasher and wiped down the stove and countertops.