Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Hold me close to your Cockaigne e’re I faint dead away

Oh, my pretties. Heads out of the gutter, it's not what you think.

I’m merely using vocabulary words in the post title to express a place I’d really like to be instead of the place I am right now, and you would too if you knew what that word meant. Trust me on this, and go look it up unless you’re some kind of super smarty pants who already has this word emblazoned on their heart in vivid shades of burnt umber, carnelian, and longing.

Yeah, Cockaigne sounds kind of nice, eh? Sure does to me, especially since lately I’ve really been struggling with regular life. Sometimes I’m simply not strong enough to deal with a blizzard (cataclysm? hurricane?) of stressors, especially when several of them have to do with the pets we’ve chosen to have live with us and who are making life an utter mess at the moment, well I think you can see where one’s thoughts would turn to pet-icide pretty rapidly.

It was, in fact, almost time to use the noose we keep handy in the bedroom to dispatch one of the cats yesterday. This is the same cat that is in heat and who we suspect of peeing all over the carpet in the Things’ room, causing it to smell like a stack of moldy newspapers, or that stank-water that happens when you leave flowers in a vase too long.

I makes me angry as a nest of hornets that some dang fool cat felt it was fine to piss all over the nice carpet I had put in 3 years ago to replace the OLD stank carpet that was there when I moved in. I mean, really. There is a perfectly good litter box in the house – USE IT! Not only did I spend half of Saturday using the Little Green Cleaner on the whole carpet to NO EFFECT, the Rug Doc I got at 5 Saturday afternoon didn’t spray water (at which point I started getting out the ice and Mama Juice), and the one I did use on the rug Mother’s Day (Mother's Day!) had almost no effect on the reek, and neither did the 11 dollar bottle of Nature’s Miracle I purchased late Sunday afternoon to dump all over the offending spot which I finally found after crawling around on hands and knees, SNIFFING THE CARPET.

Yes. I spent time on Mother's Day sniffing the carpet in my kids' room to roust out a vile odor. Shows you I know how to have a good time, right?

Stupid dang cats, anyhow.

All y’all dog people? Hush. We have one of THEM too, and she’s shedding a pound of hair a day, chewing herself raw (again!), and whining constantly at the cat in heat while the cat in heat trills that frigging ANNOYING sound while shimmying her bony butt in the air and OMG where’s my checkbook so I can throw a bunch of money at the vet to make it stop already?

Oh right. I ran out of checks. Grrrr. (Shut up YOU for mocking my reliance on the checkbook. I'm not 'there' enough yet to fly on debit cards, for lo they do not come with handy carbon copies through which to track your spending. I did, however, sign up for one yesterday, because yowza, come on into the 20th century, Tiff.)

And then, because sometimes the gravitational fields of this planet like to put me square in their sights as their dancing puppet of utter frustration, yesterday was spent dropping crap. Over and over. Fork? Ding! Sugar? Ding! Mail? Ding! Over and over. It was like being pregnant all over again, a time when the dreaded ‘dropsies’ were a constant companion. This time around, I can only blame the Forces at the Center of the Earth for my bumbling, because that figurative filly is out the barn and over the hill and only the swayback mare is left behind, silently munching on oats and the dusty gray memories of former glory.


Oh, and lastly there was the air-hammering kitchen faucet and the 90 freaking degree heat and Biff being out of town for a week, and lo! did the world start to go a touch twitchy on me over the last few days.

So you can see why I’d love to sidle up to a nice big Cockaigne right about now. All you have to do is open up your mouth and your hearts desire falls right into it. And that? Is pretty dang sweet.


What could YOU use right about now, eh?

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