Not that she hadn't earned the rest. Being cute 24/7 is hard work.
Actually, it was a semi-productive weekend. I cleaned my bathroom, swiffed the house, and did all my laundry. Guy did some of his laundry; he seems to generate more funky clothes in the laundry basket than I do. Perhaps it has something to do with my dry-clean only Ann-Taylor clothing fetish. Which brings me to a question for my peeps in cyberspace: how do you divide up chores between cohabitating couples? Guy and I take turns cooking dinner and cleaning the catboxes, but he takes out trash and vacuums while I get groceries and swiff. We each clean our own bathroom and do our own laundry (though we aren't opposed to offering to do a little of someone else's whites or darks when we have a small load to do).
Anyway, laundry is tough in our condo building, especially on a Sunday morning. Guy and I got up at 7:30am to be the first ones to the coin-operated laundry machines in the basement, and some older women had already beat us. We still managed to get a lot of laundry done, and after I cleaned the kitchen Guy cooked omelettes. Suddenly, we found ourselves done with our chores at 11:30am. "What now?" I asked Guy, unaccustomed to having time on my hands.
"We hang out and do nothing," said Guy. "I'm ready to kick some ass on my new computer game."
"Ah," I said. I shlumped down on the futon and found a Deadliest Catch marathon on Discovery Channel. Later, Cops came on, and I switched back and forth between the two. I was so worthless I took a nap. A nap, people. That's something I very rarely do, even on a weekend or vacation. I was evidently so snoozy and useless that Maddy felt it necessary to hop up on the back of the futon and shlump, too. Like mama, like kitten.