School is back in session and Terrance and I have too much time together again.
This morning he left for yoga, while I was doing my morning nap.
I arose at noon and began to get my tasks underway. Litter box cleaning for rabbits, then cat. Washing floor of my room with vinegar for rabbits have indeed decided to urinate wily nily to express their displeasure with being boarded for 10 days AND the appearance of the feline.
Then washing of the throw rugs in vinegar and hot water to kill the scent of rabbit urine so I can place them back down on the floor. Rabbits and hard wood floors = funny but irritated slipping rabbits.
After I took care of the rabbits, I began to search out the cat. He is 2 days post neuter and I wanted to give him a once over look. He has only used the litter once since we brought him home Monday night so I want to make sure his incisions are not bothering him and therefore keeping him from using the box.
Can't find the cat.
OK. Cats are infamous for finding obscure spots and hiding. I look everywhere else Loki has declared to be His spots. Nothing. I call him. Nothing. I shake the treat bag. Nothing. Hmm.
My first thought was that Terrance let the cat outside. Terrance is itching to let the cat outside. He hates litterboxes with a passion and the fact that I have brought in a cat who will HAVE to use a litterbox, at least for the near future, galls him.
The more I think about it, the more I am sure. He let the cat outside. Which now means the cat will disappear and I will be left to explain to the inconsolable 12 year old that the cat ran away. Which also means I am out 125 bucks for the adoption fee. This pisses me off not because I resent paying an adoption fee to the SPCA, but money is tight and school has begun and I have a series of cheques to write to the school totaling @500 bucks. Its the time of year when I fear looking at my chequeing account balance.
I open the linen closet to get a towel since I might as well shower if I have to go roaming the neighborhood shouting a name at a cat who doesn't know his name.
Loki is sitting there looking at me. Terrance had locked him in the linen closet on his way to yoga.
Phew. I give him a rub and shoo him from the closet. I take my shower.
As I finish, Terrance comes home.
Wrapped in a towel, I say: "honey - you locked the cat in the closet.- remember to look for him before you shut doors."
He immediately becomes defensive. "How do you know I did it?"
Um, Ok. Is this how we are going to play this? Really? I pause.
"well, he was with me after Emily left when I was reading, and then I fell asleep and you got ready for yoga and when I woke up and started to look for him I found him Inside the closed linen closet...." I trail off. I mean, do I really have to go balls to the wall legal defense for this question?
"Huh. Ok, Maybe it was me. But I want you to get dressed and march out to the car because there is some candy bar melted in the drivers side mat and it is a mess, it is never going to come out. There is caramel which is stuck on the mat. I think we are going to have to cut out that section of the mat"
I stare at him.
Several things flit through my mind:
1. I KNEW I dropped that damn candy bar. I just couldn't find it again after I was done swearing at the other drivers.
2. Yep. Totally my bad.
3. Cut out the section of the mat? Its a CANDY BAR, for petes sake. It has no industrial powers of adhesion. How hard can this be? Sugar dissolves with hot water - let alone the tropical rain forest heat we are enduring at the moment.
4. Why did I marry the man with some anal fascination with the state of the car mats?
Terrance is seething. Quietly , but seething. I give what I think is the least offensive answer.
"Ok - I'll get dressed and go take a look."
I have exhibited none of the shame I was supposed to display. I mean, in Dawn world - It's a Candy bar. It is summer. It can be washed off. Really, no big deal.
In Terrance world, it is one more example of what is wrong with Dawn. Her utter lack of attention to the niceties of life, including things like clean houses and clean cars. Her trifling , nasty whiteness.
He begins to expound on the insolvable qualities of the caramel until I finally snap.
"IT IS A CANDY BAR! It doesn't need to be cut out of anything, It is CARAMEL - not a Greek tragedy!"
"Well, I touched it and it didn't move..."
Now I am pissed. Really pissed. I storm out to remove the offensive 2 ounces of chocolate and caramel which has so enraged my spouse. I grab the mat from the car. The candy bar falls off nearly in its entirety.
You have got to be %^$%$#$ kidding me.
I march into the house and into the kitchen. I run some water on the mat and in less than 30 seconds, the mat is candy free. Not a speck of the offending caramel remains.
I run into his bedroom and hold up the mat: "See! Good as new. Cut out the section? What is wrong with you? "
His response: "You didn't water-log the mat did you?"
To my credit, I DID not throw the mat at him, although I sorely longed to do so.
Nope. I placed the mat in the sun to dry and came in here to write all of this down.