(More than) Fourinarow.net

Tomorrow is my anniversary.  12 years.  Let’s hope for another 12, at least.  ‘Cause I certainly don’t want to be left on my own with these kids.

Late this afternoon, I went out to run a couple of errands.  One of which was to pick up a gift for Dan.  I knew what I wanted to get and was pretty sure where I could get it, so I told Dan I didn’t think I’d be gone long.  Still, he demanded that I take someone with me.  I asked Maria, who turned me, just about the same time Jack volunteered.  Which, of course, caused Maria to change her mind.  So, I took Jack with me and left a bawling Maria behind with her dad and younger brothers.

Jack and I headed over to the shopping center and relatively quickly I found what I was looking for.  “Don’t tell Dad what it is,” I reminded Jack.  “Okay!” he promised.

Next, we headed over to Sears to browse the washers and dryers.  Because, well, our washer is leaking.  All. Over. The. Place.  After discussing the pros and cons of several models with Vito, we headed home.

And into chaos.

As we walked into the kitchen (after having been gone ONE hour), Dan announced to me that the evening had been a disaster.

“What happened?” I dared asked.

“The cat shit.  And there’s permanent marker all over the carpet upstairs.”

“Where did the cat shit?” I asked.  “On our bed.  The new quilt,” he told me.  “The new one?!?  That my sister just sent us?” I asked in disbelief.  “That’s the one,” he said.

Unable to even process that, I asked about the permanent marker.  Apparently Maria had climbed onto the counter, gotten into the cabinets, bypassed her washable markers, and went for the cup of miscellaneous PERMANENT ones.  She then collected her brothers, marched upstairs, and had a marker party.

Thanks to the internet, I discovered that rubbing alcohol does a pretty good job of getting marker out of carpet.  A few other things, however, didn’t fare as well…

After cleaning the carpet, I prepared to clean my quilt and asked Dan where, exactly, the cat had done his thing.  “On the carpet in the basement,” he replied.  “What?  He didn’t do it on our bed?  You LIED?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.  (I guess misery loves company and he was trying to get me to join him.)  At least it wasn’t my bed the cat had desecrated, and Dan had already cleaned it up.

So… the big question.  Go ahead.  Ask it.  I certainly did.

“Where were you when all of this was going on?” I asked Dan.  “And how long was it before you discovered it all?”

“I was in the bathroom,” he said, sheepishly.

“When I came out, I saw the cat on the counter.  I went to grab him and he tried to get away, but I was able to corner him and grab him by the scruff of the neck.  As I headed toward the basement* with him, I smelled something.  I thought to myself, ‘Did he blow his sacs?  Do cats do that?’”

“Why would you think that?”  I asked.  “Well, because the capture was kind of… stressful,” was his reply.  “And the smell was pretty strong.”

Following his nose, Dan discovered the cat’s aromatic gift on the carpet in the basement.  It was when he headed upstairs for cleaning supplies that he discovered the permanent marker disaster – still in progress.

Maybe I should thank the cat… if it hadn’t been for him, it’s possible the markers may have hit the walls before Dan had discovered what was happening.

Oh, and just when I thought the evening couldn’t get any worse? Dan came downstairs after starting baths, popped open a beer (which I gave up for Lent), swallowed some down and said, “Jack told me what you bought.”

Nice.

*Our cat currently resides in an unfinished part of the basement due to his rude habits.