You're coming back tomorrow and I wanted to give you your grade. It's a solid B-. Since I spent most of my academic career getting B-'s I'm going to say that it's nothing to be ashamed of.
I'll tell you what could have given you a higher grade. A toaster. The first night I got here I wanted some toast (naturally) so I pulled some bread out and looked around all the counters in your vast kitchen and couldn't find the toaster. I looked in all 85 of your cupboards. Nothing. I looked again, because surely, you must have a toaster. How could you not? A toaster is the most essential of all kitchen appliances. You can get by with not having a Kitchen-Aide, but a toaster? What do you do at midnight when you're feeling a little peckish? Or when it's dinner-time and you've looked in the fridge at least 5 times hoping that someone has magically put something in there for you to eat but no one actually has? You have 3 blenders, but no toaster. This just seems negligent. I had to toast my bread in the oven, like a savage.
Everything else I had a beef with was out of your control so I can't dock you for. Like your cats' inability to respect personal space. They are constantly by my side, walking all over me or wrapping their entire body around my ankle and licking my foot. Have I mentioned that I don't like cat tongue? And, full disclosure here, the idea of cats kind of give me the heebs anyway for the single reason that they march around in their own toilets. Have you seen cats in litter boxes? They take care of business and then they scratch around in it. And then they jump up on your lap, or kitchen counters, where normal people prepare their toast. Or they lick their paws and then lick you. It's disgusting. I once saw someone share her ice cream cone with her cat. She would take a lick then her cat would take a lick then she would take another lick. Do you know where that cat's tongue has been? ON ITS BUTT!
Aside from that I don't have anything against cats. There is something very comforting about having one purring in your lap. But your cats loved my lap so much that they would often fight each other over it, usually in my lap. In order to get them off I would either have to stand up, which would often end in both of them clawing onto my pants, or I would have to squirt them with the water bottle, which I think they're becoming desensitized to. It use to be that all I would have to do was shake the bottle at them and they'd get off, but now I have to actually squirt them 2 or 3 times before they stop giving me that look that says, "What do you want, Woman with a Warm Lap? I'm lounging here." What I want is for them to stop kneading my legs with their poopy paws.
Well, welcome back. I hope you had a great trip. Your home is lovely and I appreciate the gig. Do call again. Although I will be charging you substantially more the next time around for all the licking I have to endure.