Life

Usually on Wednesdays, I blather on about writing craft. But at the moment, something else is on my mind. Apparently, I‘m a bad influence. Until recently, I didn’t realize just how bad.

I was aware that I have a hoodlum cat. He sneaks out of the house night after night, crawling in during the wee hours of morning reeking of smoke, alcohol, and odors best left uninvestigated. He routinely deposits dead bodies in the dining room. This isn’t the kind of behavior that even the most rosy-eyed optimist can spin into adorable antics.

I know the dog is an obnoxious spoiled brat. Lord help me, I’m the one who spoiled her. She believes she’s the center of the universe and carries on until she gets whatever it is she wants. If I foolishly fail to secure a baby gate or door she will dash into the room and empty the wastebasket first then head for the drawers. Laundry is a special treat. She particularly favors my previously worn underwear. Considering her penchant for munching on cat poop, I hesitated even mentioning the part about wearing my underwear on her head. But you have a right to know the whole sordid truth.

Now things have gotten worse. I have corrupt cookies. Even the cyber world has succumbed to my evil influence. Really, it is the last straw. I never meant to ruin them. I had no idea the computer lacked moral fiber. How did I corrupt the cookies? Was it the careless explicative when the computer locked up? Surely, it takes more than a bit of swearing. I washed its little mouth out several times--virtually speaking. But now that I’m aware of the menace, can I ever trust it to surf again?