Lemons to lemonade
October 13, 2009
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Tuesday has officially become CRAP UNDER THE BED DAY for the cat. Today she didn’t wait until the cleaning ladies showed up to remind me how she feels about their presence. She got a jump on things and pooped under my bed at 7:25 a.m.
7:25 was one-hundred and fifteen minutes after the alarm went off from somewhere under my bed, blaring at me at ever increasing decibels until I finally found it. 7:25 was ninety minutes after I lost both contacts in the shower due to an unfortunate shampoo in the eyes incident. 7:25 was seventy minutes after I painfully twisted my knee doing nothing more strenuous than moving from a seated to standing position. 7:25 was thirty minutes after I ingested six teaspoons of children’s liquid pain reliever because there was no adult medicine in the house. 7:25 was ten minutes after I cleaned out the cat box and filled it with all new litter in hopes of enticing her to use it for her Tuesday crap fest. 7:25 was five minutes after I hobbled out to the curb with the trash (including the old litter box contents) only to realize I had missed the garbage truck. 7:25 was one minute after Cooper began a screaming tantrum because I wouldn’t allow him to eat taffy at 7:24 a.m.
7:25 was the culmination of a seriously sucky morning.
Things picked up at 7:27. The giant, smelly pile of cat shit was touching an old handbag that had somehow found its way under the bed. As far as I’m concerned, a smear of cat shit on your purse makes it a goner. I gingerly checked the contents of the bag before tossing it because I’ve been known to leave important things in old bags. The only item I found was a small ziplock containing three ibuprofen and a xanax. I swallowed the xanax right then and pocketed the ibuprofen for when the cherry flavored kiddy meds wear off. It wasn’t exactly a lemons to lemonade moment as my title implied, but pills in the poo doesn’t strike me as a phrase that will catch on.