Dawn Is Me

I live in a toilet.

Don’t misunderstand. I haven’t always lived in a toilet and, in fact, this house was not one when we moved into it.

It’s just that animals have been introduced into my house. I don’t mean the cats or the fish or the hamsters. I mean the rabbit.

My spouse has a rabbit. He is a doting parent and so he lets the rabbit run free in the house. Those of us with office space in the living room have more or less kept the critter confined to the kitchen and the dining room … but that, in some ways, just makes it worse.

After all, I have to cook in there and my family has to eat in there.

As far as I know, it’s not possible to housebreak a rabbit. They just go wherever they are. My husband does not appear to object to the fact that our kitchen and living room resemble the bottom of a rabbit cage. It doesn’t seem to bother him at all … possibly because he spends so much of his time in his office.

You know what’s really sad? In this state, rabbit poop is not grounds for divorce. And doesn’t that just suck?