No...I'm not talking about my mother.
This weekend, my brother brought the little family over so we could go have breakfast. That was the plan anyway. Mom said John and Co. would be here early so we could go to breakfast and I would still have time to sleep before work.
My brother, in true form, didn't show up until 2:30pm.
At any rate, we went out and had dinner, and came back home. I got ready for work, then left, had the longest night ever with little sleep under my belt, then came home dog-ass-tired. Ever been so tired that you couldn't fall asleep? I had to medicate myself just so I could.
Sunday evening, before I went in to work, Mom mentioned there was "an incident" Sunday night. She goes on to say that John found my cat, George, outside and brought him back in. As Mom was cleaning the kitchen, she heard George growling, and thought that Sam was tormenting him again, and didn't think anything of it. George kept growling, and finally it dawned on Mom that George doesn't growl at Sam...so she went to my room to investigate.
George was sitting on my bed, and his evil twin, Not-George, was sitting on the floor. Mom chased Not-George around until she caught him, and then put him back outside. My brother had brought in a stray, mistaking him for my cat.
Now, my room smells bad. Idon't know where it's coming from, but I am stripping everything and washing it just in case. I am shampooing the carpet. I am scrubbing the walls. I am burning incense and candles.
I'm going to kick John's ass next time I see him.