HomeAugust 20, 1997
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I started washing dishes at 9:02 AM. I was up to my elbows in dishes when we started to run out of clean litterboxes. I finished the dishes that were in the sink and switched to litterboxes. This meant I would have to empty the extremely slow draining sink and refill it to do the rest of the dishes later. We wash dishes and litterboxes separately as a precaution. It is inconvenient at best, but all cage cleaning work ground to a halt without clean litterboxes. I felt the pressure. I scrubbed frantically, splashing hot soapy water everywhere. My t-shirt was soaked. The floor was wet. My glasses were soapy. I scrubbed and scrubbed all the while listening for the washer to stop so I could unload it and start up another load of laundry. I'm having deja vu all over again. We used to run out of litterboxes when Tibet worked there and she would put up such a fuss over having to switch to litterboxes before the dishes were done, that I finally counted the number of cats, multiplied by two, and purchased that number of litterboxes so we wouldn't have to wait for Tibet to wash 'em. This worked. After that she only snarled at us about the laundry. Today I was starting to have a tiny bit of sympathy for Tibet - only a little. The sink does take an outrageously long time to drain. How can we be out of litterboxes? Dawna says a lot of them are on loan to foster homes that have the kittens and we'll get them back when the kittens get adopted. That doesn't help me today. I scrub faster and faster. The washing machine emits a loud noise and starts walking across the floor. I run to the laundry room trailing wet soap suds behind me. Somehow a blanket has wrapped itself around the agitator. I untangle it, rebalance the load, and start it up again. I beg All F's Girl to dry litterboxes. Eventually she does, but as soon as my scrubbing can't keep up with her drying she wanders off. She has no attention span whatsoever. Quincy got me twice with her patented claws out swipes as I passed her: once on my to get the piles of dirty litterboxes, and once on my way to the laundry room with an armful of smelly laundry. Jaguar sprayed one of the comfy cat beds on top of Puddums' cage, as well as the wall behind the cage, and the photos adorning the wall. Dawna has given him a light blue collar with a bell on it to distinguish him from another all white long hair cat named Chris. Chris has blue eyes and a tail and could not be mistaken for Jaguar by anybody who's half awake. Although, after I thought that, Antonia came in and called Chris Jaguar. But Jaguar has no tail and moves slowly like an aged gentleman ... nothing like Chris. Cute scene of the day: Kevin sitting on top of the yellow bucket staring intently at the picture of Lefty on this month's calendar. He seemed not to get that Lefty was a photo... Lefty is the one whose human signs notes to us "Yours in Christ, Lefty". I drove home in a stupor, stripped, took a nap, woke up, took a shower for what seemed like an hour, dressed again, and went out to a nice late lunch at Bertucci's where I ate a salad, drank lemonade, and finished Cod: A Biography of the Fish that Changed the World. Read this book! You'll love it. Kurlanksy spins a fascinating narrative of the history of the countries around the North Atlantic mixed with recipes, quotes, and interesting facts about the fish that brought the Vikings and John Cabot and the Basques to North America. As we celebrate the 500th anniversary of Cabot's "discovery" of Newfoundland it is worth noting that Cabot himself reported seeing 1000 Basque cod fishing boats when he arrived. And the Vikings had been there before Cabot. And there were people already living there... But heck, it's a good excuse to sail a replica of the Matthew tracing Cabot's route. The Matthew is due in Boston sometime this fall. I think I'll take a pass on visiting it though. I'm not big on crowds. |
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