Woke up one weekday morning and found Charlie wearing a t-shirt and nothing else.
Scott was about three feet away scrubbing the living room carpet with a dish towel and some Windex.
He looked up, "Thought I could trust him."
As Scott finished up and went upstairs to shower, I checked out Charlie's state of half-dress and figured, Well, he just peed, probably OK to let those buns air out for a while.
A few minutes later, as I was making some scrambled egg-beaters, I heard an odd sound. A bit like rain on a tin roof.
At my feet, there was Charlie, taking a leak in the oven drawer.
I told Scott that in these stressful economic times, it's comforting to know that we at least have a pot for Charlie to piss in.
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