I hate to say this, but Pooh might not be living with me after all.
So we picked him up last night, and he was supposed to be kept inside for three days. I set up a litterbox, showed him where it was, had a nice box for him to sleep in, and barricaded the bedroom door against Zoey, who had already started her banshee imitation right outside.
That was straw #1.
He was upstairs in my room, being perfectly good—if a little wonky from the drugs—and I had gone downstairs to help Mom take the towels out of the dryer when we both noticed this horrible smell in the basement. A moment later, we saw the puddle, in a weird place for a puddle, which was right under the pipe that leads up to my register.
Dad came downstairs, tested the puddle contents with his finger (he smelled it) and proclaimed it to be cat pee. I groaned. It was already a problem (with Zoey) for Pooh to be in the house, and now this?
I can’t blame Pooh. He’s never been in the house before, and he’s never had to use a litterbox before, either. He hadn’t gone to the bathroom all day, and when he saw the nice, handy (and warm) grate in the floor, he probably thought it was some sort of weird litterbox or something. So he sat down and let go.
That was Straw #2.
So let’s recap. Dad’s yelling about fumes, I’m yelling (and trying not to laugh) that I didn’t know he would pee down the <i>register</i>, for god’s sake, and we’re all trying to ignore the stench.
Somewhere in there, we went out to dinner at Arby’s, and I couldn’t stop laughing. Every time someone said something that was remotely like stench or pee or stink or whatever, I completely lost it.
(I mean, think about it. It’s one of those things that happen that you can’t help but laugh about.)
So we get home, and Zoey’s trying to break down the bedroom door to get to Pooh. I decided that it’s warm enough outside for him to stay out on the porch, so I move everything out to the porch. Mom and Dad return with some stinky-removing spray, and I practically pour half a bottle down the register in the hopes of helping. I also have a stinky-removing air freshener right next to the register.
Dad turns off the heat, I try to ignore my watering eyes, and we attempt to get back to normal. By that time, it’s something like 8pm.
That was Straw #3
Well, around 8:30, I realized that the stink in my room was even worse with the stink-removing stuff dumped down the register. I tried my best to ignore it, but I couldn’t.
Around that time, I discovered that Dad has another commitment on Sunday, and he won’t be around to help me move. I blew up, which didn’t help things at all, but we managed to make up.
So we trooped upstairs to open a window, only to find out that all the storm windows had been lowered. Dad decided that we’d open the bathroom window, but when he went to raise the window, the glass popped out of one of the panes. (This was the same pane of glass I repaired years ago after being attacked by hornets inside my room.) After much grumbling, we managed to get it back in, and decided not to leave the window open after all.
About fifteen minutes later, Rebekah took Ethan up to bed and realized that <i>her</i> window had also popped free. Only, instead of a small pane of glass like my bathroom window, this one was a huge pane of glass that had fallen free.
I’m thinking that’s the crash I heard when I was sitting at my desk earlier and a big gust of wind swept past.
We did manage to fix that window as well, at least temporarily.
That was Straw #5, and the one that broke the camel’s back. I gave up and went to bed around 9:30, thinking that up until this all started, my day had been pretty darn good.
All night long, I smelled the hellish mixture. I tossed, I turned, and I contemplated going downstairs and sleeping on the couch. I woke up this morning groggy, and unable to smell a thing, but I could taste it, so I knew it was still there. (Hey, there’s a product for you! A stink-remover that deadens your sense of smell!)
Hopefully it will be better this evening. If I have to burn incense (I’d have to buy some more or find mine in a box) or whatever to be able to breathe in my room, then that’s what I will do.
My wonderful evening. I am hoping today will be better.
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