Poor Mr. Abby

I cleaned the bathroom the other day. They sell that shower spray, but you know, just spraying that around after each shower does not mean you never have to clean beyond that. Who'd'a thunk it?

Anyway, inspired by my shower scrubbing, vanity beautifying frenzy the other day, Mister Abby decided to take his day off (yesterday) and do the floors. We have tile throughout, so it's not that hard, but, like the shower, it actually must be done periodically.

So he swept, and he ran the vacuum, and then he mopped. Mopped a couple of times. It looked nice. Smelled kinda funny, but that was really the result of an unfortunate choice in cleaning products during a recent shopping trip (Pine Sol lemon smells like wet cat pee, it seems).

So we had a nice, clean expanse of floor.

Then we woke up to rain and a wild pack of dogs who were playing in the yard, then racing back in through the dog door. Leaving smeared muddy prints everywhere.

I secured the dog door, but I think the damage has been done. Poor Mr. Abby.

I shall now take him to the exchange and buy him some boot socks or something to take his mind off the floor.