There is this uneasy truce at home now -- we don't lock up the cat and she doesn't emotionally blackmail us with her wails and whines. With that, we've learnt that an exercise in futility is doing housework when there's a cat around that refuses to be locked up. After cleaning the toilet where its kitty litter is placed, all it needs to do is pay the tray a visit, and voila, litter scattered all over. After vacuuming every corner of the floor, it will inexplicably be covered by a light layer of fur.
Perhaps all I need to do is to go with the flow -- why do housework when clearly it doesn't make a difference to our living standards? The time spent could be better used to play Plants Vs Zombies, and that much more pleasurable too.
Right now, HoudiMimi likes to scratch my shoe bag, which I've left on the floor, near the door. The Husband thinks that we should encourage HoudiMimi to scratch the shoe bag, lest it develops an unhealthy taste for scratching wood, in which case our house will be destroyed, since we have a penchant for wooden furniture.
Our last bastion is the bedrooms and the storeroom. The Iron-Willed Cat seems hellbent on exploring these areas. We'll see how long we can last. May the force be with us.