Since Mom and Jim have gone on a short vacation to Arizona (they can't resist the inexorable pull of baseball spring training), the cats have been on their worst behavior for me, their next slave in line. I've been tormented with clawing, mewing, whining, begging, and now - hurling.Last night was Thursday, a flurry of activity for me as it was both Garbage Night and The Night Before Tamara Comes To Clean The House. This meant that after I cleaned up the dinner dishes, I had to collect all the garbage cans about the house for disposal and take all the recycling out to the garage, then roll the cans out to the curb for pickup Friday morning, AND make sure the projects/laundry/shoes/computers/sundry items were out of the way so Tamara, my friend and our house cleaner, could do her job tomorrow without having to work around clutter. You never really realize how many garbage cans we have until you have to hunt them down and empty them, and I never realize what a klutz I am until I have to pick up my mom's bathroom's garbage off the floor with my bare hands because I am incapable of emptying a small trash can (probably 1.5 gallons if completely full, and it never is) into a large 13-gallon kitchen bag I snagged especially for the purpose of Thursday-night-household-garbage-can-wrangling. We don't have to separate our recycling anymore, which sadly sort of defeats the purpose of the beautifully organized crates Jim has rigged up just outside the door to the shop, so dumping paper, tin cans, and glass bottles into the gigantic bin is a cinch. Heck, that doesn't even have to go out to the curb this week. And the garbage can (smaller than the recycle bin, even though the city assures us it is just as big as the commodious recycle bin, whatever could we mean it isn't?) is light this week and it is cold but isn't raining and I can see the moon and stars shining tonight. No problem!
Of course the laundry needs to be folded, including a ton of socks, but the other load is just towels, which is always easy. Why did I have to embark on a vigorous organization project this week that included a huge and unwieldy box of sheet protectors from Costco, divider tabs, and file folders? Shlep those upstairs with the laundry in a few trips, and that's done. Hey, I actually took laundry upstairs rather than forget that it is still on top of the washer for days on end - yay, me! And I did it in a few trips rather than endanger myself, the paint and walls, and whatever I am carrying by insisting on just one perilous, overloaded trip - again, kudos to me! Now, to put the beach towels in Mom and Jim's bathroom before I can finally crawl into bed....
WHAT IS THAT ON THE DEN COUCH?!
SOMEONE, and I am nearly 100% sure I know who it is because Satchel was sitting in Mom's spot on the living room couch (he misses her) and Roggie likes the other cat food, threw up barely-chewed cat food all over a pillow on the back of the really nice couch in the den. Wait, not just on that pillow - it was all down the side of two pillows, an arm of the couch, and into the crack between the seat and the side of the couch.
I hate cats.
I didn't get to bed until 2:00 am last night because I had to remove the pillow cases from two of the couch pillows, scrub one of them down (the other one had to dry out first, yech), and wipe off what I could from the rest of couch. Then I had to hide the pillows in a closet so they couldn't be damaged by further defacement. There was dried barely-chewed cat food down under the couch cushion, but I couldn't turn on the vacuum because Kenny was asleep, so I flipped the couch cushion up and left it that way till morning. I ensured that all cats were indeed out of the den and then, in a spirit of vindictiveness, shut both french doors to the den and gave all feline inhabitants an evil glare, daring them to protest their eviction.
I hate cats. I think they do this to me on purpose.
2 comments:
a couple weeks ago Riley spent DAYS throwing up all over the house, went to the vet twice (including an overnight visit), and cost my mom a TON of money to discover-- he needed to change his food. (Seriously). They x-rayed his stomach, had two IVs in him, and that was the diagnosis.
And all was well until he puked all over the table earlier. Luckily, on the newspaper so all I had to do was throw it away.
And it was certainly not as gross as yesterday, when Sydney threw up on two seats in my mom's car, and then TRIED TO EAT IT. And then come sit in my lap.
I am an expert puke-cleaner-upper!
Aargghh!!! That's horrible! I'm not sure what is worse, though - the expense, or Syndey's story. I'm puke-phobic, seriously.
Kenny was taken aback that I didn't immediately escort the offender outside for a night of isolation and punishment. Then again, letting a cat go outside at my house would communicate, "Good job! Do it again sometime!"
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