I had Physical Therapy today, which is sort of a way for people who aren't quite doctors, to torture people and get paid for the privilege. It sounds like the type of job many people I know would like.
I came home after said appointment. Husband was in his "office" doing "Important work" consisting of "Killing Zombies" in "Left 4 Dead." This is not a big deal, this happens a lot.
However, there is a big pile of laundry in the middle of the kitchen floor. Not very high, but very spread out. I call in "Hon, what's the pile of laundry doing in the middle of the kitchen?"
He calls back, "DIE YOU F-CKERS, DIE!"
Now, he and I have been married for 17 years and 5 months, thus I have learned to listen with my ears and translate in my head instantly. So, I knew what he was really saying was, "Hi hon, welcome home, I hope therapy wasn't too hard on you. And no, I have no clue at all about why there is a big pile of laundry in the kitchen, I have been busy playing my game since I came home from work, about three hours ago. My eyes are red, my throat is sore, and I look like I haven't seen the sun in about six weeks. There is no way I could have anything to do with this mysterious pile of laundry. Love you!"
So, I walk over to the laundry and look. A lot of towels. Also, some light weight fleece throws, of which we have quite a few. A roll of paper towel, knocked off the kitchen towel holder that really doesn't work very well. Some dishtowels. The washcloth I had hanging on the faucet of the kitchen sink to dry, so it doesn't smell.
I look in the bathroom, which is right off the kitchen. Every single towel we had hanging up, is gone. The face cloths we had hanging over the little bar in the shower, gone.
I look inside Todd's bedroom. Todd and my bedrooms both are very close to the street. Todd needs to sleep during the day. I resent being woken up at night by headlights streaming in through the windows, no doubt highlighting me in all my glorly, mouth open, snoring loudly, and drool oozing down my cheeks. Yes, we have mini blinds, but we also have cats. Cats hate mini blinds. In fact, if anyone ever does a documentary about cats or mini blinds, I hope they mention this fact. My cats show their hatred of mini blinds by constantly bending them, by trying to climb them, or climb between them, bending the slats. This means they don't work very well. I try to replace them every year, but since they destroy them in about a week, that still leaves 51 other weeks of blinds that just don't work. Our solution is to drape fleece throws over the top of the mini blinds, which block out the light. It also makes us look like we were born in a barn and raised in a farmyard, but we consider that a fringe benefit, as it discourages neighbors from constantly trying to borrow money from us.
So, I look in Todd's bedroom and every one of the fleece throws he had over the windows are gone. "Hm.." I think. "Stranger and stranger."
As I'm about to head into my bedroom, I hear Jesse making these chirpy, marfy noises that he makes so well. "Chirp, marf, brrrp!" Then, it stops. I hear something that sounds like someone is rubbing their hand lightly over the carpet.
Goten comes into the room and leaps on the couch. He looks at me, and I swear, he is laughing. He's got a big old cat grin on his face, and I can read his mind. "Wait until you see what's comming!"
A few moments later, I see Jesse, coming out of my room, dragging a blanket in his mouth. I have a lightweight blanket I throw on top of my bed, in order to keep the cat hair and possible cat vomit from landing in the bed. Somehow, Jesse has managed to pull it off my bed, and is dragging it, no doubt trying to get it into the kitchen to join the other things that he has decided no longer belong where they were, but now belong on the kitchen floor.
This blanket, while not heavy, is very big, in comparison to Jesse. It's a kingsize blanket. The bed is only a double, but I bought the blanket bigger so it would cover over everything easily. Yes, Jesse is a big cat, we know that, but compared to the blanket, he's pretty small. And he's got his teeth into it, trying to drag it backwards. Of course, this is tiring work, so every once in awhile, he stops, rests, chirps, marfs, and makes that brrrp sound. Then, back to dragging it again.
I look at him and say, "Jesse James, what are you doing?"
He stops and jerks around to look at me. Does he look guilty? Does he look like he knows this is wrong and he's been caught in the act? Of course not! He sits facing me, and starts meowing frantically at me. "Mommy, stop standing there staring at me and HELP me, okay? This blanket is HUGE and I have to get it into the kitchen RIGHT NOW!"
Shaking my head, I go over and take the blanket from him. I pick it up, bring it back in the room and put it on the bed. Then, I go into the kitchen and start picking up things and putting them back where he took them from. As I'm finishing hanging up the fleece throws in Todd's room, I head out into the living room to find Jesse once again has the blanket off my bed and is trying to drag it into the kitchen.
I put the blanket back on the bed. I head into the kitchen and find Jesse knocked all the clean towels I put on the towel rack (I decided to throw the ones he'd ripped down into the laundry hamper and start fresh) and is dragging them into the kitchen.
You know what I ended up doing? Grabbing a big thing of safety pins, and pinning them over their places, so Jesse can't pull them down. The bed blanket, I tucked in all around the bed, so there is no way Jesse can pull it out.
I don't think he's forgiven me. For that matter, I don't think Goten has forgiven me either. Not for stopping Jesse, but for not beating him within an inch of his life. Goten longs for that day.
Chrissy? Smart girl she is, was cuddled on the far end of the couch, ignoring the whole thing.