“There’s a trick to this part of the vacuuming,” I tell Hollis.
“Which is?” he asks, sighing and seeming low on patience.
“O.K., you don’t ever go back there behind the couch. The cat has stuff stored back there.”
He’s looking at me.
I say, “It’s her house too.”
“You could train her. You could teach her to pick up her goddamn toys and put them where they belong.”
“But I have,” I say. “She did. They are. That is.”
-Mary Robison (is my new jesus)