Once or twice a month I have a service show up and clean up my bachelor-lifestyle messes. This is always a fun day for the household as the entire process takes about two hours and involves lots of loud vacuuming and scrubbing and chemical smells and anywhere between five and ten women dressed in white scrambling through the house.

The event utterly, completely traumatizes the cats.

Every time, after the cleaners leave, I get to play a game: Find the Felines. This is not as easy a task as one might think, especially since Clementine is not only able to squeeze into an area the volume of a ripe orange but is also exceptionally clever about choosing hiding spots.

Today she was hiding almost in plain sight and it took me about a half hour to find her: she'd nestled in and slightly under the pillows on the bed - which are the same color grey as she is. She was situated in such a way as to be able to see anyone coming or going.

Simon, on the other hand, had somehow managed to get himself trapped behind one of the servers. I don't know how he got in there in the first place, and he sure as shit wasn't getting out on his own, so I had to move a bunch of hardware for him.

Now they are cautiously wandering around, wrinkling their noses at the Stink of Clean and quite likely plotting to pee everywhere.

Such is the price I pay for being a lazy bastard.