It started with a smell.
I check the kitty litter box. Oh yeah. Someone, a dog I suspect (because if it was a cat….man, would we know it) had pissed on the Puppy Training Pad we keep next to the box for just such occasions. However, today being a SPECIAL DAY*, the pisser had aimed for the edge so the urine was half on the absorbent pad and mostly on the very non absorbent linoleum.
I get on my knees, start cleaning up the mess and instantly regretted the decision when upon standing I find that both knees are drenched in piss.
Sweeping up the disaster, clumps of litter and grossness gets caught up in the bristles. Now that needs to be hosed off.
Here is now my updated chore List:
*Dispose of litter
*Sweep and swiffer the offending floor
*Put down new Puppy Pad
*Take the broom outside and hose it down
I grab the bag of shit, the pisspad and the funked up broom and dustpan. I dispose of poobag, put the broom on the porch and then gather up the utensils to swiffer the floor clean.
After taking care of the bathroom floor and getting that mess sorted out, I grabbed the broom, opened the porch door…..and Jack** entered into the fray as he took this moment to bolt out to freedom.
FUCK! I tossed the broom into the yard and ran after him.
He darted under the shed, his usual first hiding place. However, I have been tossing potatoes out there for the rabbits that live under the shed so I had projectile weapons to hurl at him.
He looked at me like, “ARE YOU THROWING TATERS AT ME? STAHP!”
Then Jack ran out from under the shed and toward the bird feeders. SHIT SHIT SHIT….too close to the gate! He could get out. I run, cursing and shouting. Jack flattened himself to the ground and then bolted towards the porch but the door was closed so he turned and ran towards the back fence.
The back fence closest to the clump of trees and bushes outside the border of the yard. If he gets out there, we’ll never find him.
FUCK! I curse and start running with my arms and legs flapping like Phoebe from friends.
Jack flattens himself to the ground, looks at me like I’m a monster*** and then darts back to the house. Brenna opens the porch door and he races inside, probably looking for his Da to protect him from the crazy bitch outside.
FINALLY, I go wash off the broom and find a massively dead mole.
Now I need to take a picture of it because my sister is having an apocalyptic war with the moles in her yard.
I go inside, mud and grass trailing in my wake, find my phone, go back outside, take a pic and send it off.
THEN I wash off the broom and leave it to dry in the sun.
Back inside to change clothes that are now covered in mud and wet from piss.
My daughter sees me and asks, “Are you taking the day off? Why aren’t you at work?”
And this all started with a smell….
*Checking the calendar I learn that today is Friday the fucking 13th. So, obviously.
** Jack is a cat. Just in case you might be under the delusion that we have a person named Jack trapped in our house desperately looking for help. Please don’t call the police.
*** Because I am.
Nikki Nelson-Hicks 