Senseless Sunday Sarcasm : unholy mackerel
After almost a week of extreme editing, I came home to this:
Which is basically the same thing I left.
Ho-hum, mom’s home, where’s our food?
Spoiled little thankless B@$#@rds.
That’s what happens when dad serves the cats mackerel instead of cat food for 6 days.
There wasn’t much in the sink, but it stank of a vile substance.
That’s what happens when strands of putrefying canned fish get caught in a sink trap that hadn’t been cleaned for almost a week.
At least I didn’t come home to this
Not that I hadn’t witnessed that level of mental torture before, but for some reason men don’t seem to like the shill screams, slammed doors, the lack of physical contact for the next month after that kind of atrocity has happened…
…and for that, I’m thankful.
But there are times I wonder if a man is hardwired to go for the one WORST thing to do. In that respect, men can be just like dogs.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the fact that the house didn’t look any worse than when I left. It’s just that I was so blinded by the smell that my eyes couldn’t appreciate the effort.
I love coming home to this
One day, I’ll appreciate all of beauty around me, and little things like cleaning up the slimy stink of a lifetime won’t cause a meltdown.
On that day, I’ll be riding one of these:
…and I’ll be a cat.