Cat sinks claws into Spouse’s back while trying to cuddle him. I trim cat’s claws, because Spouse refuses to. Never has. Nine years.
After the trim:
Me: Would you grab the dustpan and sweep up the cat’s nails?
S: You trimmed ’em, you sweep ’em.
M: I trimmed them for you. You sweep ’em.
S: You trimmed them haphazardly. You sweep ’em.
M: I swept all the crumbs under P’s chair. You sweep this.
S: You made *and* served food that made crumbs. You *deserve* to sweep.
M: There is no deserve about sweeping. Our house, our chores.
S: Nope. You find the puke, you clean it. You cut the nails, you sweep ’em.
S: That’s right. Post hoc ergo propter hoc.
M: That’s not how you use it!
S: [Grinning and walking away] I know.
It’s a wonder I haven’t killed him yet.
And did I sweep them? Of course. Because while Spouse is at work, enjoying his own thoughts and peeing by himself and getting paid for it (that’s all I remember about work now is thinking and peeing and getting paid), Peanut will step on cat claw trimming and scream bloody murder about how something hurt him and then will sit down to examine it and will undoubtedly try to eat it and then shriek that it’s gross and then try to stab me with it to see if it hurts me the same way it hurt his foot and tongue, and I’m not going to have that be my morning. So, yes, I swept up the nails. It’s a wonder I haven’t killed me yet, either.
Now I am interested in his philosophy that “person who finds the cat puke cleans it up.” Does he really adhere to that rule? I own exclusive rights to the cleaning of puke/shit in my house. Lucky me.
@kw we both are very true to the “you find the puke, you clean it” rule. He’s awesome on that one. And he jumps up to wipe bottoms when he’s home. So he’s only *mostly* dead, as Miracle Max might intone.
You could always dump the claws on his side of the bed. Or is that evil?
omg, fae, I love you.