Q ran out of food on Sunday. I was feeling hung over and exhausted and had declared that I wasn't going to put on a bra all day long, and so I did not go to get the cat food.
Monday and Tuesday, Q had canned chicken for breakfast.
Now, of course I put on a bra Monday and Tuesday. I did not, however, remember to go to the fucking store to buy cat food.
Today is Wednesday. Tuesday night, Jimi went to the fucking store, but he did not remember to buy cat food.
We do not have any more canned chicken or canned tuna in our home. It is all gone. We need to go to the fucking store to buy people food AND cat food.
So Q, today, is having dog food for breakfast.
I'd feel bad, except that the tubby bastard, regular-like, will scarf down all of his kitten food, then meander upstairs and chow down on the puppy food. (Because there's always puppy food in the bowl. Unless we're out of puppy food. And then Finn gets shit like eggs and rice for breakfast. Do cats eat eggs and rice?)
Q ate the dog food, but he did it with a look that says, "I can't believe you lazy bastards let me run out of food three days ago and haven't gone to the fucking store yet to get more."
Anyhow, I'm going to the fucking store today, okay? I promise.