Ya know, once in a while I appreciate it when the People clean inside the house. It renews the canvas upon which I can spread my glorious fur, and leaves shiny places for me to sit on and, um, toot upon, which can leave some nice marks.

But... Today the woman was washing the outside of the house.

Isn't the outside, like, self-cleaning? Does she not realize that once in a while, there's thins thing that happens that does for free and without any effort on her part, accomplish the same thing?

It's called rain, People.

Sheesh. Washing the outside of the house. Like that does me any good.

Plus, the noise interrupted my nap.

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