She rearranged the furniture in the lounge a couple of days ago. It has been done in such a way, I can no longer skulk in the dining room undetected, or behind the console table chewing the cables because it has been moved, I cannot climb all over the back of the couches and I am unable to lie in the window shouting and engaging in a spot of banter with the gardeners or the binmen. In fact it is very difficult for me to look out of the window in the lounge at all, because the console table is in front of it and I can no longer loaf on the back of the couch whilst I am doing it and am forced to stand looking like a common kelb. I am outraged! The old crone doesn't even have to get off the couch to find out what I am up to when skulking round. The only safe haven left is the kitchen and it is so boring in there, because the old miser hides any contraband in cupboards and fridges. I suffer enough malaise just residing with these hairless clowns and now any possible entertainment has been shut down. She has reached a whole new level of cruelty!
The old shrew returned from her vacation with a head cold and a chest infection. She has been looking feeble for days and taking various medications in an attempt to shift it. The males were all very unsympathetic when she returned and told her to stay away, as they were due to go away on holiday.
Yesterday, after feeding us an insipid meal of gruel of chicken, she went in the shower and left the kelb and I in the bedroom lying on our chairs. She left the door to the en suite open so she could keep her beady eyes on our activity. I lay on my chair looking the picture of sweetness and light. I have spent the entire day chuckling to myself. Happy in the knowledge we were quiet and behaving she showered. During her shower I vomited my meal of chicken in amongst the scatter cushions on her bed. She must be deaf as a post with this cold, because she didn't hear a thing. I lay back in my chair and when she emerged from her shower and got dressed she called us to follow her downstairs, not seeming to care that the bed was ever so slightly disheveled.
It was just delightful to see the look of sheer horror and revulsion when she discovered my grisly deed later on that evening when we went to bed. I have never heard such language! It would put a docker to shame. She did not seem amused to be scrubbing the wet marks off the mattress late in the evening and we all had to sleep in the weedy Infidel's room while the bed dried out. It smells of adolescent in there and feet.
She hasn't moved the furniture back this morning, in fact she seems to be taking even more pleasure out of my dissatisfaction today! She truly is the epitome of evil!