First things first. Since you all cleverly sided with me over the music room filth issue, here, as promised, are more pictures of Mia. Mia and poor, poor Pixel, who had such a nice life before the baby.
Moving on, did you know that the internet is awesome? It has so much power. Yesterday I posted about how filthy Chris's music room was, and then he came home from work and cleaned it. So, tomorrow I am going to post a picture of our closet and on Friday I will post the litter boxes and the downstairs bathroom. (People, why in the hell did you allow me to buy a house with four bathrooms? Why? You must have known I was never going to clean them.) Using my new-found power of internet husband shaming, I predict that my house will be spotless by the end of next week.
And finally, why I suck. You know what drives me absolutely batshit insane about my husband? He never takes the low blow. Never. I always take the low blow, twice if I can manage. And then I wait a month and do it again, just to let you know I haven't forgotten. Chris? Never. He just keeps his skinny white ass smack dab in the middle of the moral fucking highroad. How can you fight with someone like that? How? Batshit insane, I'm telling you. Anyway, I thought that after I posted about his filthy room, Chris would counter with some of the plentiful ammunition at his disposal. Apparently I had forgotten who I am married to. The problem with fighting dirty with someone who doesn't fight dirty back is that then you have The Guilt. The Guilt leads you to do things like this:
It is entirely possible that before posting about the filthy music room I first had to clean up, well, several areas of cat puke that were nowhere near the confines of said music room. It is also possible that some of those areas of cat vomit had been in residence on my carpet for (and this is why I hate telling the truth and avoid it whenever possible) upwards of a week. My cats are old! They vomit with distressing regularity, and some days the cat vomit, which is always in the basement and therefore I only have to see it on my way to and from the laundry room, just does not seem more important than getting sloppy wet Mia kisses.
It is additionally possible that after I posted about the filthy music room I vaccuumed up what appeared to be somewhere between four and seven cricket carcasses that had amassed in front of the fireplace. But I can explain this one! I steam cleaned the carpets in the basement a couple of weeks ago and to do so moved a basket of piano music onto the hearth and apparently the area behind the basket was where crickets went to die and their little corpses were then transferred en masse to the hearth. And then I just left them there for two weeks. Or maybe three.
So there, now you know.