Let's Change the Subject

Because God knows it's bad enough wallowing in my child's bathroom habits all day; I really shouldn't spend my non-bathroom moments talking about them, right? Right.

So the other day, like a week ago, an egg went missing from the flower pot in the house. This flower pot is in the windowsill just inside the dining room door. This is where I put eggs I want to get into the house so the dogs don't eat them, but I don't want to have to go all the way in to the kitchen to actually put them in the refrigerator. I just set the egg in the soil at the base of this plant and retrieve it when I come inside.

Except when I went to retrieve this particular egg from the pot, it was gone. A. and the MiL denied any knowledge of the egg's whereabouts. I figured Otty had been inside at some point and had eaten it, gave a mental shrug, and forgot about it.

Then a few days later it got really cold. When Cubby and I were preparing to go outside that frosty morning, I grabbed my winter boots that had been sitting unused for a couple of weeks. Sitting under the window just inside the dining room door.

Yeah. The very same window in which the missing egg had gone . . . missing. Except it hadn't gone missing. It had gone into the bottom of my boot, presumably after a nudge from the Devil Cat. Where it broke. And sat for three days.

I will not attempt to describe to you what a broken egg in the bottom of a boot smells like after three days. Instead I will just tell you that I threw those boots right out. No cleaning product in the world could have cleansed that footwear.

It's okay, though. I was kind of thinking of getting some new boots anyway, as the egg boots had lost their waterproofiness, and non-waterproof winter boots are a useless item at Blackrock. The egg gave me the excuse I needed to chuck 'em and find some new ones. So I guess I should thank the Devil Cat for her devilish ways.

Just as long as she doesn't drop an egg into my ladybug clogs. That would be unacceptable.