I looked around my dirty house and sighed. How in the heck does it get like this every week? There are two of us, plus the cat. I squinted down at the animal in question. “Why do you make such a mess?” I asked.
He looked up at me. “I clean up after myself,” he said.
The fan kicked up a small bit of loose hair that blew past us like a tumbleweed.
I looked at him again, eyebrow raised.
“Mostly,” he added.
You know how this works, but as always, a gentle reminder:
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I sighed again. “It doesn’t really matter who’s fault it is — “
“It’s not mine!”
“—bottom line is that I have to clean it.”
He yawned, stood, and stretched. “I’m gonna take a nap,” he said, then sauntered toward his box collection.
“Jerk,” I muttered, jealous.
I made my way into the kitchen and got started. With a podcast to listen to, it wasn’t so bad. I just needed to focus and get it done quick so I could relax.
I moved the chairs out of the kitchen so I could clean the floor. Once it was bare, I noticed just how dirty it was. “Jeez,” I said.
“What is it?” he asked, startling me.
I looked down at my feet and saw with some surprise that he was sitting there. “The floor is dirtier than I thought,’ I said.
He looked around. “I kind of like it like this,” he said.
I raised my eyebrow at him again. "That’s gross,” I told him.
“It’s fun to roll around in dirt,” he said, a little defensively.
“That’s still gross,” I said.
“And sometimes I find things I can eat,” he continued.
“Oh my god,” I said. “I need to sweep every day!”
He got up and started smelling the floor.
“Listen,” I said, picking him up and setting him on one of the chairs I had moved outside of the kitchen. “Right now, the floor is lava.”
Picking up the broom, I turned back to the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes or so later, the floor was gleaming, freshly swept and mopped. Satisfied, I went into the family room and collapsed on the couch for a quick break.
After a minute, Freddie joined me. My hand went automatically to his fur.
“Is the floor still larva?” he asked.
“What?” I said, then remembered what I had told him. “No, lava. Like the really hot stuff that comes out of volcanos.”
“I think I’d prefer larva,” he said, thoughtfully. “I can eat that.”
I barked out a laugh, amused and disgusted in equal measure. “You are so gross,” I said. “And now I have to finish cleaning because I can’t stand the thought of larva on the floor.”
Picking up some of my cleaning supplies, I made my way into the bathroom. It took about twenty minutes, but I got everything in there clean, including Freddie’s litter box. It had been emptied, washed, and refilled and was ready for whatever he could dish out.
I gathered up the cleaning supplies and went back into the living room in time to see Freddie eating something off the floor. He was not anywhere near his food.
“Freddie!” I cried.
He looked up at me and started chewing faster.
“What are you eating?!” I demanded.
“Nothing,” he said, mouth full.
I shuddered. “I’m cleaning the floor right now.”
I had some dusting and polishing to do first, so I got to it, keeping one eye on my gross cat. I managed to finish up without having to watch him do anything else gag-worthy, although at one point he did try to roll around in the dust and cat hair I had swept into a pile. I was able to shoo him off.
When everything was finally finished, and all the cleaning supplies had been put away, I dropped myself onto the couch again with a happy sigh. The house always looked so nice after it had been cleaned and polished.
Freddie joined me after a moment and we relaxed together, the sweat on my brow evaporating.
"Sorry, little guy,” I said. “The floor is all clean now.”
“Yeah,” he said. “A clean floor is nice too. I can slide around.”
I nodded, knowingly. “I like to slide around on it in my socks,” I said.
“Plus it will be dirty again in no time,” he told me, sagely.
Happy Caturday, Peeps! I hope any weekend chores you have are quick and painless.
