Last night, I spent some much needed time cleaning my apartment. After a week of coming home only to grab a quick dinner (mmm, Hot Pocket) and sleep, my apartment looked like that big pile of garbage from Fraggle Rock. You know what I'm talking about? The pile of garbage that talked? And there were like two rats who hung out there? What was up with that show? Were the Fraggles always high? They always had the munchies and were all, "I'm gonna eat the dozers constructions and then laugh about it because I am a big, fluffy, Fraggle slacker." Maybe I'm a little high.
ANYWAY. Last week at some time I realized that Phoebe had peed in my bed. My bed. The place where I SLEEP. Do you want to know how I realized this? I pulled back the covers, sat down, and then jumped up when I realized my ass was wet. I was so tired at that point that I actually wondered if I had peed myself. I was also too tired to change my sheets, so I pulled them off and stuffed them in the washer, sprayed some stuff on the pee stain, flipped my mattress and curled up under my comforter. Last night I washed the sheets. I am disgusting. And I should probably just throw those sheets away.
Phoebe is now banned from my room, except at night when I am actually sleeping in my bed, aka the biggest litter box known to man and cat besides the beach but Phoebe has never been to the beach so she doesn't know. The first time she pees on the bed when I am actually in it, she is going to be banned to the bathroom forever and ever. Not really, though. That seems like a lot of work to keep her in the bathroom all the time.
Last night, as I was rushing to get the trash to the dumpster before The Office started (and oh my god, how good was it? I laughed. Out loud. LOL.), I hoped that I would never be kidnapped while I am taking the garbage out at night. Mostly, because it would suck to be kidnapped, unless you're being kidnapped by hot FBI Agent Mulder who I realize does not exist but leave me in my special, made-up world of make-believe, will you? But also because I was wearing pink Pebbles-print pajama pants (hello, alliteration, how are you?), brown clogs, my pea coat and no bra. You do not want to be kidnapped without a bra. Trust me. It can provide support AND be used as a weapon.