Play Dead, Wally. Good Boy –
I know that this blog entry will tick off some people because of this first line: We have someone clean our house.
I know, I know. It’s bourgeoise. But it’s the nicest anniversary present my wife and I ever gave one another. Nothing says love like: “Baby, you never have to clean a toilet again.”
Anyway, the woman who cleans our house showed up this morning and wouldn’t look me in the eye. In fact, she skittered out of the room if I entered.
So I looked down. Is my dork hanging out?
No. Good. Did we forget to pay her? Did a cat leave a special, soupy present for her to clean?
No matter. I gathered up my stuff and headed to the lumberyard to get some oak. On the way home I figured it out: We have three coffins sitting around, two of which have giant burn marks in the area where your head goes.
That probably would freak some people out.
Wally the cat, however, seems fine with the coffins.
— Christopher Schwarz
