I am now eating
my words about wishing I was a cat person. I royally failed at cat-sitting for my neighbor this week. My responsibilities were so few......crap.
Every day last week I would go over to her loft, feed the kitten, and scoop a little poop. When I was growing up, I would always {like the three times I actually pulled my weight and helped clean out the litter-box} flush the "business" down the toilet. So, reverting back to childhood, I threw this little guys "business" into my neighbor's toilet, shut the lid, flushed and came home. I did this six days in a row. On the last day I noticed that the toilet had backed up and over flowed into her white bathroom.
I kid you not, then the kitten jumps into the toilet.
In a panic, I went down to the concierge downstairs in our building and begged her for a plunger. She teased me for a bit about my "bathroom habits" then finally gave in. I used my charm and convinced her to come upstairs and plunge the toilet for me. It took us a half hour to fix the toilet and another half hour to persuade the soaking wet kitten to come out from behind the couch.
This is all JJ's fault, by the way. He's the one who volunteered me to cat-sit because he thought I needed the company while he was traveling for work.
