Saturday, Dec. 13, 2008
Dear Diary:

"But … but … but think of Binky's needs," the spousal unit grumbled.

If I had rolled my eyes any harder they would have fallen out of my head.

After years of endless complaining polite prodding, I have convinced the spousal unit that after he is finished eating he is perfectly able to carry his dishes to the counter next to the sink.

The one thing I have not been able to do is to convince him to scrape any left over food on said dishes into either the garbage or compost—veggie type matter goes to the compost pail, meat type matter goes to the garbage.

Mostly the spousal unit cleans his plate, so it's not an issue. But there are times like last night when his eyes are bigger than his belly and there is leftover food.

Last night it was General Tao tofu, fairly nummy little cubes of deep fried tofu covered with a tangy sweet and sour sauce. How deeeelicious are these cubes? Well, apparently they are nummy enough that Binky jumped up on the kitchen counter and chowed down on a few of the leftovers.

When the spousal unit apprised me of the miracle of a tofu eating cat, I immediately yelled at him for

a) not yelling at the cat to get off the counter and
b) leaving the food on his plate, thus tempting the cat to commit a forbidden act.

In reply, the spousal unit said he did yell at the cat, and the cat did jump down from the counter, taking a General Tao tofu cube with him. Then, the spousal unit reported, the cat spent many happy minutes batting the fried tofu cube around the kitchen floor before becoming bored.

"Both food and a toy," said the spousal unit happily, as if in some way this was a good thing.

Yes, the spousal unit allowed the cat to bat greasy food all around the kitchen floor.

"So when the cat got bored you picked up the tofu cube?" I asked, inwardly cringing because I had a pretty good idea of the answer.

"Uh, no," was the reply.

I swept the kitchen floor this morning. I do not recall a small, greasy fried cube of tofu. I have scouted of the kitchen and for the life of me I cannot find this tofu cube.

This leaves us with the possibility that

a) the cat ate the cube after it had been properly tortured or
b) somewhere in some dark nook of my kitchen lurks a small piece of slowing composting deep fried tofu.

Hope springs eternal. Let's go with Supposition A, shall we?

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 410.91 miles.

Going Nowhere Collaboration

Goal for 2008: 500 miles


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