The angels are singing because we located the cat pee smell! And that sentence right there SUCKS SO HARD. Why can’t I have a life in which I never have to use the words “locate” and “cat pee?”
Last night I got home and immediately told Paco we were going up in the attic to find the cat pee. I even put on real shoes that hurt my feet. Now, our attic is not one of those nice attics you see in movies and on t.v. with dress mannequins and leather steamer chests from the Victorian era and everyone’s baby pictures from ever. Our attic is gross and hot as balls and full of insulation and boards.
The entrance to the attic is through Elliot’s closet, so we locked Kevin out and carefully headed over to the area above our office. There is no floor in our attic, only insulation and beams but Paco has placed some wider boards around the perimeter so one can walk around. Paco wouldn’t let me step off those boards because I’m apparently a klutz and I would like to point out that only one person in our house has ever fallen through the ceiling from the attic and it wasn’t me.
He clambered over to the corner where we thought the smell might be coming from and looked around and immediately saw cat shit, so he rolled up that piece of insulation so the ceiling was exposed and got all jacked up in a weird position and sniffed…
“GAH. Well, I found the problem.”
The cat had used that area of the ceiling as a litterbox. I HAD A LITTERBOX IN MY CEILING. I live in a barn.
I tell you what, when I came out of that attic and Kevin greeted me I was hard pressed not to kick him. Cats are fuckers.
Tim ripped out all insulation in the area and Holly and I went to Petco and bought a gallon of Nature’s Miracle. He put it down and as of this morning there is no cat pee smell and all is right in my world.
I will say, though. I went outside and sniffed all my bushes after one of you guys said certain shrubs smell like cat urine. Right as I was doing it, a car pulled into our driveway to drop off Holly from a pool party and I was all, “Hey, hi. I was just checking my shrubs for cat pee.” Also, I had on blue Isotoner house slippers with white socks because my feet sweat. Which I told her, because I’m an oversharer and frankly, I thought it might make her forget about the cat pee.
My foot feels better today too. You guys, I had no idea about this stretching thing. I mean, I would throw a can of Dr. Scholl’s stinky foot spray down on the floor and roll my foot over it and it felt okay, and I rubbed my heel with my hand a lot, but this business of, like, putting your toes on the wall and stretching your foot? I did not know how much that would help. See why I keep a journal well past when I should have retired with dignity?
I’m still struggling with shoes, though. I made Holly go with me to Shoe Carnival last night and I tried a bunch of super ugly sandals and YES, I’m sure they would serve, but goddamn. When did it happen that I got old? Plus it’s never good to try on shoes when your feet already hurt.
Oh, and the basement carpet is dry, thanks to a dehumidifier and a fan running 24/7 and Paco’s ingenuity – he put boards under the wet part to lift it off the floor. We have a lot of boards.
I have not forgotten all the writing prompts you guys gave me last week. Here’s one:
What the eff do you do with younger school aged kids during the summer when your household includes two working parents?
I know, right? It was such a financial and guilt relief when the kids went to elementary school, but oh my god, the summers. I wanted to quit my job every summer.
We established Holly early on at the Jewish Community Center summer camp and she loves it and looks forward to seeing her friends every year. The camp’s expensive and a pain in the ass sometimes, but we’re all used to it. With Elliot it was more difficult because we lived in a smaller town and had less money. One year he just went over to a neighbor’s house every day and I paid her and that sucked. She did things like drag the kids around while she did errands and once even took them to the tanning salon with her. No word on whether she put any of the kids IN the actual bed like that Oompa-Loompa from New Jersey.
One thing that pisses me off to no end about summer programs around here: they all seem to run from 9-4. Um. The reason one needs an all-day summer camp is because ONE HAS A JOB. Jobs don’t run from 9-4 and if you have one that does, may I submit my application? One year I signed up Elliot for a camp that let out at 4 and since the camp was in the same parking lot as the public library, I took a lesson from the hobos and made him go sit in the children’s area and pretend to read until I could get there at 4:45. I had a reasonably flexible job then, but what the hell do people do who have to work until 5 and then commute? I hate how this country can’t figure out child care. WE CAN’T ALL STAY HOME.
That was the last summer I had to find care for him – I think he was 11. Those are the most awkward summer years. They’re almost old enough to stay home alone, but even if you were comfortable with it, what are they going to do all day?
Luckily Holly’s camp has programs for the kids all the way up until they are 14 and they get to be junior counselors. This year she is doing theater and art camps, which are better for older kids and then next year there’s a “camp” where they do community service and she’s excited about that.
Scroll to the bottom of this page and you’ll see that she’s even in the ads.
