Showing posts with label frosted flakes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frosted flakes. Show all posts

Thursday, September 8, 2011

THE WHY'S HAVE IT

Some apparently unanswerable questions from the past week:
 
  • Why was there a desiccated French fry in the bottom of my knitting bag?

  •  Why were there two pair of Foghorn's underpants and nine empty juice boxes behind the futon?

  • Why does the dog drink out of the toilet and the cat wash her feet in the water bowl?  (Wait a minute.  Maybe the former happens because of the latter.)

  • Why did I find peanut butter in the fridge and margarine in the pantry?

  • Why do the dogs think the only reason to put on gym shoes is to take them for a walk?

  • Why does my husband wait until after I've tidied up the whole kitchen at 9 p.m. to forage for food, ensuring that I wake up to dry and hardened Frosted Flakes glued to the stainless steel sink?

  • Why does the dog think a 19th century book on the World's Columbian Exposition is so much more toothsome than kibble?  Or a Nylabone?  Or a 21st century, easily-replaced Harry Potter volume?




  • Why are children always their most quarrelsome/hungry/thirsty/talkative at bed time?

  • Why does the mailman produce such ire in the dog?

  • Why does the dog produce so much ire in the cat?

  • Why does the Vulcan produce so much ire in the Warden?


Finally, and maybe most importantly:

11.  Why does the cat always choose to puke on the carpet, never on the bare floors?

If you all will excuse me now, I have a date with the Spot Bot.






You might also be interested in:

* Meet the Inmates -- The Professor.

Meet the Inmates -- Foghorn.