7-24-06

Friday morning I went to the basement to start laundry and right at the base of the stairs … cat poop. I hollered (aren’t I cute) up to my husband “one of the cats had an accident on the carpet.”(Actually there were a lot of curse words but I’m going for the PG rating) My husband says he just changed their litter last night, a few more exchanges of words and I chalk it up to a fluke, but Saturday the same thing downstairs on the carpet, kitty dookie. Now we have two cats and I don’t know who’s doing it so I tell the kids to be alert be aware of all the cats movements (ha- ha movements). Anyway all Saturday nothing else. Of course I go to work Sunday morning and can they (I really mean “him”) keep things in check (no). First I get a call that the baby spilled something on the floor and put a towel on it. Then it’s a call with it may be cat pee. Last it’s a call saying “he”(the husband)couldn’t smell anything but has my 14 year old put his nose in it to check( at this point I can still hear my teen in the background gagging… verifying it’s the puss’s pee!) Okay now what’s up? One of the cat’s is sick it’s gonna cost me an arm and a leg to fix it, etc., and etc. First thing when I get home I don’t stress it, except for the fact that the piss covered towel is sitting in the sink…SITTING IN THE SINK!? All day…What!? “Well I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do with it” … “Oh you must be clairvoyant because I wanted you to leave it in the sink until the fairies come and carry it off!”(Jac*&ss). We will just eat dinner and my investigation can start later (no stressing). So after dinner, after scrubbing the sink, after starting the laundry, after doing the baths, I sat down to discuss the tinkle trouble. The family tells me she (we still don’t know which one) peed under the chair that I am occupying. I say I can still smell it, I rewashed the floor, but as I sat there I kept sniffing (which my family felt was quite amusing). I could not stand it any longer so I took apart the room smelling everything but I came right back to the chair. At that moment I was praying I was wrong but I started smelling the chair (not a folding chair, not a dining room chair not a fisher price plastic chair, my new upholstered chair) … I wasn’t wrong... she Pissed in the chair…The freakin’ chair I was sitting in! My eye began to twitch (I thing I may implode) but I hold it together (I know most of you are shocked, trust me I’m shocked). I clean the crud out of the chair and realize that one of the cats must be really sick. Sleep beckons I must retire, so we all pass out…and it was event free all night until I open my eye (just one) to see my 7 year old daughter standing above me declaring she won’t go downstairs because the cat pooped on the chair… I think she’s very funny I cleaned it up last night and it was pee not poop ha-ha… eyes closing again…“but it’s disgusting!” Please be a joke…I drag my limp body from bed… downstairs I go… crabby tired seeping from every part of me…I walk right into… the newly defecated crime scene! … NOOOOOO! I pick up the phone and began to scream expletives at my husband through the phone. Oh my god…I’m going to strangle the cats … why me …cat pee smells worse that sewage… come home and clean this up…cats are Satan’s friends(little ears look like horns right?)…why me … get home now…I’m calling the guys that clean up after CSI… After I hang up (I’m very harmonious at this point, no worries) I call the vet and beg for some miracle to make her stop. She says that they could run extensive tests (meaning sell an organ if you want help $$$$) but it may not tell us anything (you’re screwed). Basically separate the cats and watch them (ohhh like watching paint dry) is my cheapest choice. I head down to the basement to start laundry (Desperate housewife huh? more like desolate housewife.) Sadly there is more cat dung at the bottom of the stairs… I am going to snap, break, and crack. I decide to check their litter (before heading out to purchase another litter box and 903 yards of plastic wrap) for perhaps spiders nest or some sort of gremlin hiding in the covered box. As I lift the lid off the box my worst fears come true… a small family of rats, no, angry biting Brazilian beetles, no… much more terrifying… my masterful husband DID NOT PUT LITTER IN THE BOX! He, him, *^&%&^%&^&, no litter… GOD &^&^%^$% son of **^&^%%$%8768 …What the*^&& %& … I’m going to kill… revenge… retribution will be MINE!!...*dramatic pause* … (insert menacing music)… Oh, he’s home now I need to go leave a special surprise in his car…