The Cat's Meow

I love my landlords. And here are some examples of why. One, I have become the annoying key tenant. First, I insisted that they get a new doorknob for the garage so that we could lock the garage (yes, to protect my RC-30 – the saddest part of all is that I don’t pay a fee to store my bike in the garage, but when I moved in I told them that either the bike went in the garage or the bike when up and down the stairs every day – so when I’m insisting they put a new doorknob on, I’m being super bitchy). ANYWAY, they did put the new doorknob on and then they gave us keys (very responsible of them). But none of the keys worked. And that made me laugh. Anyway, as I write this, I realize it’s not very interesting. It turns out that the landlords have to make us all new garage keys, in addition to getting me a key to the front porch. All because I’m a key bitch. Another example of how cool my landlords is about the cats. We have several cats living in our house. Actually, four. But it’s not nearly as bad as it seems. Two cats live upstairs and two cats live downstairs and they don’t interact because they don’t get along. So I can go all day and only see two of the cats, if I choose. Which I rarely do because these cats are FREAKING ADORABLE. We have a DMZ between the upstairs and the downstairs where NO cats can go and so you can imagine my surprise when I came home this evening and found Murphy, one of the upstairs cats, in the DMZ. I shouted “LANDLORD!! THE CAT’S IN THE DMZ” really loudly because I , um, didn’t want to get blamed for it. She immediately took responsibility for the fact that Murphy had gotten into the DMZ ON HER WATCH. And that’s funny. Oh, yeah, and they other thing is that I have been given two household chores. One, make sure the stairs and the upstairs hallway are clean and two, take the recycling out to the garage. That’s it. No cleaning the bathroom. No cleaning the kitchen. No sweeping the zillions of feet of hardwood floor downstairs. Two simple chores that take me a maximum of twenty minutes a week. Sweet. That's why it rules to live in my house.