Every single day without fail,
I come home after dark.
Dragging my feet,
Purse bouncing off the stairs because I'm too tired to actually carry it.
Every single day without fail,
I open the door and it's all still there.
The clumps of fur, staring at me from the floor.
So I grab the broom and start in the far corner.
The same spot takes 5 minutes because the fur balls dance around my fucking broom.
By the time I make my way to the garbage can,
I am so tired that I debate just lying down on the large pile of soft inviting fur.
But I don't.
I scoop it up and toss it out then go to sleep.
When I come home the next day,
Dragging my feet,
Purse bouncing off the stairs because I'm too tired to actually carry it,
I open the door and it's all still there.
