BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

OK, so this is almost cliché ...

I just spent the better part of the Bears game trying to get this goddamn "Cavy Cage" to go together. The problem with it is that it's not really a cage, but a jury-rigged piece of crap involving parts for a shelving unit, plastic display board, and cable ties ... and the basis of it are these stupid round clips that are supposed to hold the 12x12 grid panels together. I have never been able to successfully get anything based on that sort of crap to stay together long enough to completely assemble anything, and this is certainly no exception.

This whole project is one of The Wife's BAD IDEAS (like getting Daughter #2 a full drum set for her 5th birthday). A "Cavy" is another name for Guinea Pig ... which I'm suspecting is Cat for "lunch" (see HERE for the traumatic direction I believe this is heading). I'm fully expecting that we're going to get the Cavys, The Girls will fall in love with them, and within the first six weeks, Dusty (our cat) will eviscertate the new arrivals, leaving their bloody heads out as trophies, permanently scarring my kids. But, The Wife insists that Guinea Pigs "are just so cuuuute" and points out that they are supposed to like being carried around and cuddled (not high on Dusty's list of favored activites), so will create a less-stressful environment for her. All I see (assuming that this motherfucking piece of shit excuse for "a cage" ever gets assembled) is carnage, horror, and big therapy bills down the line.

Did I mention how fucking much I hate Christmas?

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