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Cleaning up
Mar. 31st, 2002 12:16 pmI'm fine with my cats leaving a mess. Not fine, so much as I understand that they're my responsibility, and I know their habits well enough to know how to stop them from peeing on things for the most part, and that other 'incidents' are their way of telling me something's wrong.
They've been telling me something's wrong in my room for a couple of weeks now. And I've been smelling other evidence for the past week. Except that cat piss smells (to my nose) significantly different from dog piss, and I've been sick (damn this plague), so I haven't exactly been trusting my senses.
So today (as opposed to the misery that was yesterday - sleep in, watch LoTR with the new trailer, and then retreat again to my room with a pounding headache), I started in on my little to-do list, which includes laundry, shelving books, more laundry, and generally trying to find my floor again.
I have so far managed to find three separate and distinct dog-pee spots. Two on my bedskirt and one on the corner of my laundry basket. I'm pissed. Really pissed, and it's such an incredibly accurate word, too. Except I can't really decide where to direct my anger. The dog, certainly... except he's learned bad habits, and I should have known better than to allow him access to my room; Lucy, for bringing him up so often... except that the poor thing will otherwise get left downstairs to languish in the tiny little apartment of; Gordon, whose dog, and thus, responsibility it is... except that he's never home, and Thor's well-behaved in his presence; and finally, of course, the landlord, who now six months later has still not installed a latch on my door... not that I'd use it, because I do want to leave the cats able to come and go from my room as they please.
So. Peeved with no target and no outlet but work.
They've been telling me something's wrong in my room for a couple of weeks now. And I've been smelling other evidence for the past week. Except that cat piss smells (to my nose) significantly different from dog piss, and I've been sick (damn this plague), so I haven't exactly been trusting my senses.
So today (as opposed to the misery that was yesterday - sleep in, watch LoTR with the new trailer, and then retreat again to my room with a pounding headache), I started in on my little to-do list, which includes laundry, shelving books, more laundry, and generally trying to find my floor again.
I have so far managed to find three separate and distinct dog-pee spots. Two on my bedskirt and one on the corner of my laundry basket. I'm pissed. Really pissed, and it's such an incredibly accurate word, too. Except I can't really decide where to direct my anger. The dog, certainly... except he's learned bad habits, and I should have known better than to allow him access to my room; Lucy, for bringing him up so often... except that the poor thing will otherwise get left downstairs to languish in the tiny little apartment of; Gordon, whose dog, and thus, responsibility it is... except that he's never home, and Thor's well-behaved in his presence; and finally, of course, the landlord, who now six months later has still not installed a latch on my door... not that I'd use it, because I do want to leave the cats able to come and go from my room as they please.
So. Peeved with no target and no outlet but work.
