Jesus fucking christ.
Adam and I get home tonight, and while I’m parking the car we’ve borrowed from his parents, he goes around back to talk to the landlady’s husband. Landlady’s husband promptly tells Adam that I don’t take care of the cats while he’s gone… apparently I haven’t cleaned the litter in two weeks (it had been two days,) and they were howling and crying as though they were in agony (they always do that, it’s how they talk to you, something about being part siamese…)
So not only are they coming in to my house when I’m not home and cleaning out my garbage and my cat litter, then spraying the place with air freshener that gives me a headache, but they’re now telling my boyfriend that I’m a bad mother. Next thing you know, they’re going to be calling the Humane Society on me to have my cats rescued.
Anyone who has met my cats know that they’re both quite unique personalities.
Needless to say, I’m really pissed. And I’m pretty sure it says in our lease that they can only come in to the place to show it… they aren’t supposed to be taking it upon themselves to clean it or air freshen it or stand over me and make sure I take out the recycling. And I’m sorry, but two days of cat litterbox smell is not going to make a difference as to whether or not they can rent the apartment. People are aware that when a litterbox goes, the smell goes too. Whatever will they do when we start packing and the place really starts to get messy?