Yay! New poo box!
Which actually isn't a box. It's a black plastic sphere on a black plastic base that looks a LOT like the stormtrooper costumes in Spaceballs. Only black. 'Cause a beige litter box? Meh.
So Christmas morning actually came to my house on New Year's Day. I went running into the laundry room in my pajamas to see if Santa had left a little present in the litter.
YEEESSSS! The cats get it! One of them used it! I get to push the button that makes it go all the way around and sift out the poo and drop it through the waste ports into the nifty little drawer underneath! Oooooh. Aaaaah. And I squatted there on the coldcold floor and watched the. Entire. Cycle. Did I mention that I had a pounding headache from the night before and had to hold myself up by leaning on the shelf above the poo box? Yeah.
Wayne was not so excited as I was, and managed to describe my childish delight in the worst possible terms. He'll be excited when he has to clean the damn thing. He will be. (Shaking my fist menacingly.)
And I am the best wife ever because my husband is snowboarding down a mountain in Colorado as I type. One of my coworkers mentioned that he really wanted to go snowboarding this weekend, but he didn't want to go by himself. So I had Wayne call him, I ordered plane tickets and a rental car, drove them to the airport in the middle of the night, and he better damn well have a good time.
Isn't it amazing how guys can do that? Wayne's met the guy before, he's not a complete stranger, but he doesn't hesitate to jump on a plane with this person and crash at his buddy's house for a few days. And spend four days completely together. Just to go snowboarding. Which is my idea of a horrible time, sliding around in snow on a freezing cold day with hundreds of other idiots all bent on doing the same insane thing...which is why I'm curled up a home with hot chocolate.