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You are probably looking at this picture and wondering why the hell I am trying to set my coat closet on fire.

The answer: Someone (who shall remain nameless but who has a penis and lives in my house and isn’t a cat) shut the basement door last night, so the cats couldn’t get to the litter boxes.

So there was runny poop in the closet this morning.

And the entire house smells like runny poop.

And I was late for work today because I had to scrub the floor with enzymatic cleaner and then spray it with wood oil. And then that nameless someone (who thought the poop was a cat toy and picked it up with his bare hand, and naturally freaked out and dropped the poop on our shoes, so those had to be cleaned too) decided a scented candle would make everything better.

During times like these, I cling to the quote that goes something like, "Chains do not hold a marriage together. It is threads, hundreds of tiny threads, which sew poop, the runniest, stinkiest poop ever that binds people together through the years."

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