So I spent all day yesterday cleaning and one of my tasks was to get the dining room "back in order." Since I sewed the bridesmaid's dress for
faecat and
ironman4do's wedding on my dining room table, it's been a bit of a haphazard shambles with a floor that needed sweeping and mopping, plants that needed watering, table that needed dusting and polishing, etc.
So I spent a good three hours yesterday moving everything out of the room, sweeping the floor, mopping the floor, cleaning the baseboards, cleaning cat hair off the chairs and covering them with clean towels, dusting and buffing all of the furniture, watering the plants thoroughly and cleaning away any dead leaves, sorting through the cooking magazines in there, cleaning the windowsills, etc.
Four hours later and the room was spotless. I beamed with pride And I had the dumbass idea of putting a plant (Madagascar Dragon Tree) on the table as a centerpiece. Who does that?
This morning I wake up to a metallic crash.
The crash was the copper colander that the plant had been sitting in. And there was Flufftard in the middle of it with an idiotic Steve Urkel look on his face.
The plant, already half-devoured, lay a few feet away, with damp potting soil covering a three-foot spot on the floor. Annoying, but tolerable.
But then I walked around to the other side of the table to find the partially-digested remains of plant that Flufftard had devoured in a watery two-foot radius of cat hork.
Pawprints and fur all over the table.
What took hours was quite largely undone in five minutes.
I scruffed him and deposited him in the bathroom, where he can spend the majority of his day while I clean this back up.
You can't scruff kids, and if you pick them up by the wedgie you have to replace their underwear. But do kids even eat plants, or do they just go for the dirt?
ETA It's all back in order, but man, cat -- there were six other rooms that hadn't been freshly mopped that you could've puked and wrecked shit in. Dumbass. :P