My carpets were filthy. I knew it. Piles of cat hair in all the corners were a good indication that the entire carpet hadn't been so much as vacuumed in a very long time. Anyone could see this.
But she didn't have to say it. Nope. Nuh uh.
I had invited her in. She sat down all nice-like. She accepted tea with a social grace only she possessed. She lamely complimented a few items in my parlor.
But I knew what she was thinking. I could see it growing in her mind, bunching up in her throat, and trying to spurt through her lips. So by the time she actually said it - when she said "Your carpet needs cleaning" - I wanted to throttle her.
I stopped short though. I went into passive aggressive mode instead and said
"What is that I smell?" then I turned to leave the room.
I peeked back around the corner and caught her taking a secret sniff of her own seat.
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