I'm not allowed to have pets in my apartment, so, naturally, I have a cat and a ferret. The other day, my landlord unexpectedly showed up at my apartment building, and I panicked. Picture Lucille Ball running around her apartment, frantically trying to hide something from Ricky. The cat house that Andrew bought me went into the closet, along with the litter box, the food, the water, and, yes, the cat. The ferret was in his carrier, and my Rachel twin and I were searching and searching for a place to put him. Finally, it hit me.
I don't have a hamper, so behind my bedroom door is a big pile of dirty clothes.
Don't laugh.
Okay, laugh.
My dirty clothes pile grew considerably larger with a ferret living underneath of it. Finally, at the last second, I remembered to run into the living room and erase "Make vet appointment" from my white board's to do list. I can just see trying to explain that to my landlord.
Who, by the way, didn't even come in to the apartment. He just left a note on my door.
We forgot about the ferret. He didn't get out from under the dirty clothes until 2 hours later.

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