Carnivorous Squirrels

Sooooo my house almost burned down yesterday. And I am convinced this is all Steve's fault.

Four days ago, on Friday, I came home from work and patiently waited for Steve to come home from work. When 6:15 came and went and Chloe was getting fussy due to wasting away from starvation, I decided to go ahead and make dinner for the two of us. So, dinner is done and I've just done all of the dishes, the kitchen's been cleaned up and I've got Chloe in the tub when Steve gets home. Steve has the brilliant idea to use our only nice pot to deep fry chicken in. Which he's never done before. Oh, and he decides to do this using an entire bottle of olive oil. 

I say to him, "Please don't leave me a huge mess to clean up."  "I won't," is his reply. So, the next day I come home from work and the pot of used oil is still sitting on the stove. Steve gets home from work and I say, "Could you please wash that pot?" I get a grunt in reply. Later, I let the dogs out to do their business while I get their bowls of food ready. I look out the front window and see Ty, our Black and Tan Coonhound, scarfing whole chicken wing bones. Bones that were just sitting there, on our lawn, right outside the front door. "Ummm," I say to Steve, "your dog just ate like 7 whole chicken wings that were just right out on our lawn? Whyyyy are their chicken wings on the lawn and not in the garbage?" Steve says casually, "For the squirrels." Really?? I had NO IDEA that squirrels hunted and ate chickens! Someone better warn the lake association before the people who sell fresh eggs down the street lose their flocks to these carnivorous squirrels! 

I just don't get it, I really don't get his train of thought on this subject.

So, the days go by and STILL there is a pot of oil on the stove and I absolutely REFUSE to wash it. I pick up after this man each and every day. He seems to be physically incapable of the following mundane, every day activities:
1) Throwing ANYTHING away (including, but not limited to: beer bottle caps, old receipts, junk mail, empty milk cartons, empty food packages, clothing tags, etc etc)
2) Putting clothes into the hamper instead of on the floor next to the hamper
3) Putting away ANYTHING

So, I say to myself, this is not my mess. I work all day just like he does. Except when I come home, I don't get to watch Mustang and quad videos on YouTube. No, I make dinner and give Chloe her bath and get her ready for bed. Oh, and take care of the animals and write lesson plans and cure cancer and perform quantam physics, and and and...

So, I come home yesterday to a house full of smoke. I panic, leaving Chloe in her carseat outside on the front step, I rush into the house and find the flame of the front burner of our gas stove is on full blast. I quickly turn off the gas. There is smoke EVERYWHERE. And it smells like my house is a KFC on fire. Because. Of. The. Oil. In. The. Pot. On. The. Stove. Yep. 
The pot of oil, the very one that has been the subject of my nagging for the past 4 days is sitting precariously on both the front burner (the one that was left on) and back burner. And it is burning. And smoking. FML. I open every window I can, but its about 2 degrees outside and can only leave them open for about a half hour before I start to freeze to death. So I close them and can't fully air out my poor house. 

Steve and I conclude that one of the cats (probably the fat ass, Mona) climbed up onto the stove to drink from the pot of chicken grease and, when jumping down, knocked one of the knobs into the "on" position. 
So now, everything we own - including my nice winter jacket, our shower curtain, our couch, and our bedspread - all smell as if they have been deep fried and then burned. 
And, of this I am certain, all because Steve didn't wash that f-ing pot. Which is now ruined and in the garbage. 

At least now the carnivorous squirrels of Harwinton have some nice chicken grease to feast on.