So, my part of the house is amazingly clean.
Wasn’t I going to make out with all y’all earlier? I think I was. You should totally come over right now and make out with my in my clean kitchen. Then, we can make out in my clean downstairs bathroom. And then we can all take a shower together in the upstairs bathroom. I’ll scrub your back if you’ll wash my hair. And then we can retire to the bedroom. But you’ve got to get here before ten, because I’m dog-tired* and must soon go to sleep.
The Butcher needs to clean the living room and vacuum it, clean his room and vacuum it, vacuum the stairs, and clean off the back porch. And this all must happen before four o’clock tomorrow afternoon.
Can he do it? It seems like it should be physically possible.
Will he do it? I’ll admit, I’m nervous.
The Professor was saying–she came over to keep me company while I cleaned–that her favorite thing is that the Butcher’s idea of clean is to just stack things in piles on the periphery of the room. That’s true.
It’s also true that Mrs. Wigglebottom’s favorite thing** is to stack all her stuff right in the middle of the room. Right now, in the middle of the living room is a dog, three bones, and a rope.
Between the two of them, they make quite an interesting mess.
*Yes, the tired of a dog I know better than to take to the dog park! Don’t worry, busy bodies! No dog were attacked in the making of that figure of speech.
**After menacing folks at the dog park, of course.
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Tiny Cat Pants 