I was at least expecting her to bring home this:
Instead, she settled for these:
Two non-fluffy ratfaces.
The worse part about the cats is that they have taken over the second bathroom.
I have always wanted a second bathroom, because I grew up in a household of seven people and only one toilet.
This meant that no matter when you rushed upstairs, sweating profusely and clenching your buttocks tighter than the Iron Curtain holding back the poor huddled masses yearning to be free, you were met with the inevitability of a closed bathroom door.
Knock Knock Knock O my gosh are you almost done please please I have to go so bad
The door, thankfully, had a full length mirror on it, so you could see yourself bent double and growing paler.
There was a bit of hallway leading up to the bathroom; I would pace up and down that hallway and practice my Lamaze breathing.
Sometimes it seemed impossible. There was just no way you were going to make it.
You layed out contingencies in your head: In the pants? Trashcan? Highly visible front yard?
But eventually that last flush would come, the door would swing open, and you would soldier past the previous occupant, with no comment about the rankness of the air.
Destiny then had you, and the relief was so great you barely noticed the uncomfortably warm surface of the toilet seat.
They claw my wife's stuff.
They hide under our bed at night, giggling.
Let me be clear: school lunch programs are not connected to juvenile obesity in any way.
There is just no correlation.