Cat destruction part 200/infinity

We love them. They love our furniture, flowers, and computers

On Mondays I open the new post box and write directly into it. No planning. No editing. Apologies ahead of time.

“These fucking cats.” - Steve, or pretty much any cat owner.

I am in the office that I share with Steve because for once he is not on a very loud meeting “solutioning” (not his word because he wants to stay married) shit that I don’t understand. I wanted to sit at my desk to write because my desk chair is amazing and my coccyx hurts from driving all around looking at houses I don’t want to buy this weekend. I found my office chair on E-bay searching “vintage office chair” with my family looking on and laughing. My e-bay purchase record is middling at best (but ahead of my Etsy purchases which arrive late, quirky in a not great way and mis-sized.) My family was WRONG there is a line up of people who want my chair. Steve usually stands at his desk but it can lower (IKEA pre-pandemic stocked this desk and it is amazing) and the end of the day (not end of days but I think it feels like it after 10 hours of solutioning (yes spellcheck I KNOW it is not a word and I appreciate your support of my position) he has wheeled it over and is sitting in vintage comfort. The kids often steal it to play video games, not at all because we have provided cast off dining chairs for them to use at their computer/x box/nintendo/wii situation, but because of its own considerable merits. Also all four pets “borrow it.” It is also an excellent claw sharpening tool. No uni-taskers in this house.

The coveted chair. Please do NOT look closely at fabric torn up by cat claws. Because they did NOT do that. (Today) Also Apollo does have eye issues but one of them is not winking.

In any case it is the chair that brought me here in this brief interlude between Steve’s meetings but he is not quiet. I think the cats have done something. It’s just a sense I get.

“God. Dammit. They are such a pain in the ass.”

“How can they always ruin things.”

“They are lucky they are cute or they wouldn’t be alive.”

Two of the three of them. Directly Above the scene of the crime.

He leaves and returns with paper towels. We re-introduced paper towels when Denver allowed commercial compost. We get the least absorbent ones available because environmental things work less well for twice the price. Bamboo people, its not just for ugly floors anymore! Despite my positive words for rainbow flannels wrapped around a dowel paper towels are better for some jobs. Like avoiding brisket splatter in the microwave, or cleaning up cat pee. We use them and toss them in the compost and feel virtuous and have less cat pee in our laundry. But Denver is disallowing paper towels and pizza boxes and compostable to go containers. Because they are mandating compost and people who are forced to do things don’t always do the best job at said things. Who knew? So now it is just food. And plants the no one in this house has ever killed with over-loving in the form of too much water.

Tulip head in bowl. Stem has been eaten.

I will have to remove the paper towels and decrease our take out (probably not) and stop getting pizza (definitely not.) For now though we are working through our last few rolls. One of which Steve is going through at rapid speed on his desk. I’m guessing it is not pee. And it isn’t. It is the water from the vase of tulips that he brought in to the office to hide them from Alf who decapitates tulips like it is his job. Those things don’t stand a chance.

When Steve re-located the vase I had some questions. Such as: Why are you putting a tulip vase next to three computers. (I am totally NOT wondering it because I have thrice had to go to the genius bar to have my laptop dealt with.) And also: why are you putting the tulips vase next to three computers. And lastly: why are you putting the tulip vase next to three computers. He said he would shut the door and he did.

As I am typing he is in and out of the room. The paper towels have been replaces with a hand towel. The cook books that he uses to elevate one of his computers are now spread out over a chair (not mine, I am using it.)

This is my computer from one of the times I was a dumb ass, not Steve’s computer because I would never document my husband being a dumb ass. At least in a photo.

“Ah OK.” He is sighing. I think things might be OK.

Also: things I was thinking of writing about. My trip to the dentist. Trans cans of bud light. Making guns gay. But those fucking cats. They put me on tilt once again and it wasn’t even my desk!

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How is your Monday so far?