There’s Cat Vomit In My Shoe…

shoe

Sometimes life is like that, your day is cruising along, nothing special and then bam,  something as innocuous as entering the walk in robe and recoiling in horror from the smell that assaults your senses can change your outlook from sunny to “it’s all to hard”.  That was my Saturday….

Dry retching, I investigate the horrifying odour only to discover that in retaliation for feeding him the tablet he needs to control his Thyroid problem, darling Monty Cat has thrown up in my sneaker, across the carpet and up one wall of the walk in.

While only a small vomit, the minced beef must have been “marinating” overnight (it didn’t get below 25 inside that night and the walk in holds all the AV for the home theatre room adding to the heat factor in there, so the smell was unearthly.   Can deal with visual ick, but smells, especially inside my house I don’t cope with.

(Thank god I didn’t get up at 4 am and dress in the dark to go for a ride like I was considering doing!!)

This “delightful” find brought on a dummy spit of spectacular proportions, irrational thoughts of torching the shoes and everything the disgusting mess had touched and topping it off with booze.   “I’ll never be able to go for a long walk again, that’s it, I’ll be an unfit, tubby woman, so I may as well have a drink”.  Yep, that’s where my brain took me.   Aren’t you glad you weren’t there?  😉

A cup of tea and a slighted saner train of thought saw me try to clean everything and think through my though process.  A drink wouldn’t solve anything, and seriously, the lack of one pair of shoes is going to put up such a barrier that it will derail my entire fitness program?  Bloody hell Crazy Cat Lady, get a grip!

So why was this tiny “problem” such a big thing in my head.  Perhaps it’s all the stuff I have going on at work, perhaps it’s because I didn’t sleep well last night, perhaps I’m seriously messed up and destined to burn my house down because of a bit of eww on the carpet!  Who knows?   LOL

What I do know, and I guess where this post is going is, don’t let the cat vomit in your shoe distract you from what you want to achieve.  These small things are sent to try us and we can’t let them derail our focus on what is truly important.

PS: The carpet is now, thanks to the loan of a carpet cleaner from our next door neighbour, but my shoe smells like a wet dog – nothing worse than a sneaker that has to be soaked!  I’m pretty sure it’ll have to go, but I’m holding out hope and investing in Glen 20 shares.

PSS: 20 days no wine today and feeling great

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A Sledge Hammer & Good Intentions

building-1080599.jpgI’m sitting in the carnage of what was once my ensuite shower staring at the dust, chipped concrete and new scratches on previously pristine tiles.  How did you happen you ask? Good question, and it’s all my fault, let me explain…

I have a problem with “nearly done”.  It springs from growing up in a house where Dad had a 5 year plan that morphed into a 10 and then 20 year plan.  Things half built, nearly finished, never started.  The clock only reset when they moved house and the 5 year plan could start again!

It dove me nuts.  It also drove me to be very self sufficient and a strong feeling that I couldn’t rely on anyone else (but that’s probably another post).

I swore I wouldn’t be one of those women that lived in a nearly done house.  How is it then that 5 years after moving in the house is still a list of niggling things that need doing?

Crazy Cat Boy starts strong (and to be fair he tackles stuff I wouldn’t) but doesn’t finish well.  So I’m on a mission this year to “finish” everything.  This led to getting a quote for retiling the base of our shower re tiled so it drains properly.

This is where the fun started… first I had to get a tiler to show up; then I nearly had a heart attack at the quote from the one tiler that did!

Over the years Crazy Cat Boy and I’ve turned our hands to all sorts of things, with mostly okay outcomes. So we decided that we’d do it ourselves, how hard can it be?

It’s not like we dove right in with a sledge hammer and good intentions.  No we did the responsible thing: We watched some YouTube videos first. This clearly makes us qualified right?  What’s the worst that can happen?  The base will leak and our house will rot from under us, no biggie 😉

The destruction has started and we’ve managed to remove the tiles, the concrete base and the very expensive glass doors.    Now it’s a process of drying it out and using A3 sheets of paper to work out the new tile pattern and drain waste placement.   It’s now I’m also wondering if we just should have sucked it up and paid a professional.

I’m not sure how it will end, but for now it’s an adventure (or a YouTube how not) waiting to happen. Wish us luck!

The Gourmet Creative “Process”

I’m seriously considering commissioning a time and motion study to get to the bottom of this issue. There have to be efficiencies that can be applied to the current processes – Marco Pierre White would lose his mind if he saw Crazy Cat Boy cook!kitchen

I’m standing in our kitchen surrounded by an inconceivably large mess that produced a single dinner for two last night.

Stains I don’t recognise spread across the floor (I’m ignoring the larger bits of ‘stuff”, I leave them for the cats to clean up so they aren’t my problem), there are brightly colour dribbles down every cupboard.

Weird spices coat the bits of the bench, sink and cooktop that I can see past the truly staggering number of utensils, plates, chopping boards and saucepans that clutter every available surface.

I don’t understand!  The dishwasher is right there and it’s empty, why not put the dirty stuff in there when you’re done with it?  Every knife has been used; why must he use every knife?

Once clean tea towels are caked with god knows what.  Why is it always the good tea towels that he uses, why not the ratty old ones that I hang right next to them?! Soaking doesn’t work; they never look the same again.

The kicker is that the one who cooks doesn’t clean in our house.  There is no incentive for him to change anything in his creative process.

One of the younger cats jumps lightly up on to a slightly less crowed part of the bench and gives me a look that says “There’s nothing good left up here, I checked last night”.  The older cat licks a random patch of floor hoping for a find, he’ll probably have success judging from the looks of all this.  With a resigned sigh I pull on rubber gloves and start the recovery process….

I really shouldn’t complain.  I do cook, but I don’t enjoy it and he does.   My major contribution to keeping us fed is to suggest that wine might be nice and grabbing the glasses out.  Apart from the colossal mess, the system works for us.