There’s a house inspector here. He is currently running the water in my bathroom and measuring some stuff.

Baxter is supervising. He thinks the man must be here to play with him, but can’t understand why he’s shining flashlights in corners and writing things down. Clearly, anyone who comes into the house does so for Bax’s sake.

As he gets more comfortable, he’ll start twining around the inspector’s legs. I hope the guy is nimble, because I think it would be quite a faux pas if my cat tripped the inspector and broke his neck.

I wonder if Ms. Flight Attendant would still buy the house.

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