Monday was a bad day, as Mondays tend to be. I lost out on an editing job I put a lot of effort into getting, and I wanted it, and the circumstances pissed me off. But I don't feel like rehashing it--it's been hashed enough elsewhere--so even though the story better fits the theme of this blog, I'll just say that I was in a bad mood.
I didn't have any pressing deadlines, and I didn't feel much like working on my own stuff.
And I'd been letting the housework slide, because I'd been busy. I don't like housework, exactly, but I find it therapeutic sometimes, and I love the result. I can only truly relax in a clean apartment.
And housework, when you have a kitten, can be downright fun. Changing the sheets, for example, is pure adventure.
So I cleaned and straightened, etc. and eventually I got around to running the vaccuum. In the bedroom, I stuck it as far as it would go under the bed, and suddenly it made a funny sound. I pulled it out to find that it was eating a dirty dishrag. What?
I got down on my hands and knees, and had a look under the bed. Then I went and got a broom, and this is what I fished out:
*3 pens
*emery board
*tweezers
*dozen ponytail holders
*three post-it notes, two blank, one with a phone number for which I'd been looking
*one Ricola cough drop
*dozen balls and furry mice
*laminated bookmark, now decorated with teeth marks
*one band-aid, little cotton ball still attached, which I distinctly remember ripping off my arm and throwing in my wastebasket after a blood test a week or so ago
*two more dirty dishrags
*toothpaste cap
*two string babies (masses of yarn that used to be balls of yarn, which Annabel carries from room to room in her mouth)
Now, I work at home. I pick up things when I drop them on the floor. I don't store my dirty dishrags under my bed. (eww) Nor do I throw used band-aids under there. (double eww)
I don't see Annabel taking this stuff under the bed. Oh, sure I know the balls and mice go flying under there when she's playing, but the rest? I don't see her getting into the garbage, or the laundry basket, or in the little box of grooming supplies in the bathroom (which sits on the back of the toilet), or into the office supply baskets on my desk.
It appears that when I leave the apartment, Annabel has quite the romp. Who knew? She must be very graceful and careful, because I don't find things turned upside down. Is there a particular reason she takes office and grooming supplies? What does she intend to do with this load of crap? I asked her, but she's not saying. Perfect antidote to a Monday.
