So, Typing Slave is having a “work day”, which means the small slaves are out of the house in their designated locations and TS is hogging the recliner, or couch, or office chair, or kitchen table, or whereever, with the laptop in her lap instead of me, should I deign to require attention. She mutters to herself and paces sometimes and tugs on her hair and ignores the phone and drinks too much caffeine — generally acts in such a way as to annoy us cats.
Today Big D and I decided to teach her a lesson. Remind her who’s the boss of everyone’s schedules in this house.
I started the lesson by saving a hairball until I knew she was at a really tense part of whatever the crap she thinks she’s doing. When she got that “look”, I pretending I was going to kak it up on the table. TS had to quickly set aside the laptop, leap across the toy-strewn floor (it’s not like she cleans HOUSE on her work days), and fling me off the table before I did any damage. Between heaves, I managed to position myself over the top of a Fisher Price MiniVan and puke neatly into the driver’s seat. You know, the one area of the car that actually has an electronic component.
Since I am not Big D and cannot summon 10 pukes in a row, I only frothed on the floor (or the toys) once or twice before bringing up said hairball. Big D, according to plan, waited until she was taking a quick shower and got his tongue on some of Loud Thing’s leftover cereal milk from breakfast (I really mean it when I say she doesn’t clean house on work days). As Big D is allergic to milk, this began a marathon barf session right, and soon we heard the shower crank off.
TS heard the distinctive hruk hruk hurk splaaaat and came dashing out of the shower, hair wet and eyes crazy, only to see Big D add a 5th smear of froth/kibble combo to the cluttered, dirty table top. She slid him onto the tile floor and like a nincompoop started cleaning up the many froth spots with her towel. Big D kept running amuck and frothing in hard to reach locations– he really gets into this, I’m telling you — and she kept following him around, naked as a mole rat, using her own towel to soak up cat vomit.
That’s when she noticed the A/C truck parked out in front of the house.
Yeah, I’d say we pretty much rattled her. She is whining to us that now she can’t concentrate, hence she’s typing up this blog post for me instead of working on her fiction.
TS Adds: My cruddy housekeeping has a bonus side. The vinyl tablecloth from Halloween is still on the kitchen table, so the many barfs didn’t make any watermarks. Ha! Take that, cats.
MK Adds: She hasn’t found the OTHER places we puked yet, from when she first got in the shower and couldn’t hear the hruk hruk. Heh heh heh heh!