Which is how this little "situation" happened. This was like two weekends ago now, Saturday night, and I'm home harvesting my crops because I'm a badass mo' fo' like that. I hear Matt dicking around in the back porch which is literally is big piece of shit and I get angry just being out there. It's a useless sack what with the door not really shutting, the single pane glass window (original to the 100+ y.o. house yall- this bitch is "vintage") and the closets that some idiot "handmade". OH- let's not forget the purple paint and the newspaper shoved into a hole in the wall which was then painted over. LIKE WE WOULDN'T NOTICE THAT.
Anyways- so he's banging away and installing the new door that someone generously gave to us. We've had that thing in the garage for a few weeks and he's just now doing it. So I'm thinking, "Jesus H. Christ- it takes a long time to put on a door." I'm harvesting- he's banging. About 4 hours later, after discovering I can make even MORE money buy working on other people's farm (to which I did for 4 hours. Again, I'm the coolest bitch you'll ever know), I decide to inspect his work because we all know husbands work MUCH better under intense micromanagement and "what the fuck are you doing" accusations. At least mine does. You should try it- work HAPPENS.
So I go out to the porch and immediately, I'm like, "What the fuck????". Matt is obviously nowhere to be seen. Nope- no new door just massive destruction. The ugly peel and stick tile is gone, so the floor is sticky, and an entire wall was ripped down to the studs. For no reason other than he felt like it. Need proof??
No more tile...just sticky floor
This is where the newspaper was. It's now gone, but you'll notice our new peep hole. I can stick my hand through the hole to shake people's hands BEFORE the come in. Nice.
Look! Another peep hole. Wow- people could probably get a decent hand job through this one.
THEN, after witnessing the unconceivable destruction of my back porch with no plans or money to renovate it, I decide to go back to FarmTown. But then.... holy shit lambs!!! There are two massive piles of cake puke in the middle of my living room. At some point my cat decided to throw up a lot of stuff, and Matt made an attempt to clean it. You'll notice this attempt is code for "We just sprinkle some stuff on top, leave the jug there, and hope the puke fairies come to finish it up." Yah, guess what? I left it for him. I don't do puke. Not cat or kid puke. Neither. I'd hire out if I were alone. I've actually been known to call Matt at work to handle a puke situation.
And then here comes the mother fucking culprit trying to be all cute. Fuck you, Lenny. WHY must you eat everything??? There is not enough carpet cleaner in the world to keep up with you. YOU are the reason I can't have new carpet. Your puke is so toxic it bleaches the damn color out of everything. Are you some kind of freak??? I'm already spending $25 every two weeks on your prescription food. He apparently has allergies therefore we have to feed him special kibbles that smell puke ironically. This has led, I believe, to Lenny becoming bulimic. He binges and obviously purges. Frequently.
(Side Note: Is it just me or does it look like Lenny is bracing for a beating? I would never do that, but let me assure you- no cuddles for HIM that night. No sir. That punk had to sleep on the floor of my room. That's right- the floor with no carpet. Also- I totally dig the fact his front paws have thumbs. Creepy, but cute)
So in the end, my back porch is tore up and will be forever at this rate. The new back door is in which looks like shit since it's painted hunter green and it obviously clashes with the purple walls. Lenny still pukes, but at least he has the decency to not flaunt it in front of me now. And Matt did clean up the puke. After I "gently" reminded him after he got all settled and was almost asleep. That was strategic, believe me.