The carpets have just been professionally cleaned. They look bright and fluffy and they smell… well, clean.

Nala walks into the living room, takes a pointed look around as if to say, “Well, this just won’t do!” …

… and you know how this story ends.

Helloooooo hairball.

Thanks, Nala. I mean, don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel about being locked in the guest bedroom for two hours while the carpet guy was here.


(So, Santa, where do we stand with those hardwood floors?)


  1. Hi there. Just wanted to say I love your work… Found you through Trunkt, I think.

    And… I know that hairball. That hairball muddies up my floors just after I mop.


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