9-27-06

I have a cold. The kind of cold where your arms and legs are sore and your brain is foggy. Anyway due to this cold I must have not fully secured the upstairs from the 2 ½ year old. So you are aware upstairs we have a highly sophisticated system of locking all doors so the toddler cannot enter, only a few trained can come and unlock the doors if necessary. Two things are needed to have this distinguished honor, height (you must be able to reach the top of the door) and a unique device to jimmy the lock (it happens to be a nail but we tested many before finding the one with the exact measurements needed). To start again the toddler was upstairs in his room (or so I thought) and I was meditating (ha-ha). Anyway the doorbell rings and normally he’s the first one to the door but not today. Magazine seller, which I’m sure she’d be scared off by my sunken eyes and dripping nose but not that easy. “No but thanks”… “Oh, not today thanks”… and finally “AHCHOO, ok then bye”. I close the door and was glad that he must have dozed off. But as I reach the top of the stairs and see my bedroom door wide open a chill goes down my spine. As I enter the room I see my blond haired babe standing over our predominately black cat who now has multiple white dripping stripes all over her. My sweetheart has pretty much emptied a bottle of lotion all over her (and of course she sat through it … see story with cat tweezing incident). Of course though when I grab a towel and try to come to her rescue she bolts around the room then down the hall to the baby’s room. I grab her and begin the buffing process; she now looks like we’ve tried to laminate her and I cannot see her getting a hairball in the near future (or stuck anywhere). While I’m still polishing her I smell a familiar smell in the room… my mousse. He has moussed his room, covering the chair, dresser, a magazine, and other assorted items. I quickly start trying to wipe that up with the towel in my hand but “duh” the towel is covered in glossy cat hair and I’m smearing it all over everything and now its glossy with a touch of cat hair (if Hildi from “Trading Spaces” sees this I’m sure of her next design, cat haired cover cabinets ). So as I finish the cleaning I wipe my nose on my shirt (who am I kidding people I’m not that refined and my arms are sore from the cat shellac procedure and the razoring of the walls). He, my youngest my blued eyed offspring has won again… I am defeated.