Covid Poetry Part 2

 My third round of Covid and my second poem of the round. This one still evolving, called

Laundry.

House Messes and Hello to Singapore Readers

Rex naps curled up in the desk chair next to mine. Two long toenails extrude from his front paws, little half moons winking out at me from between the pads. My daughter is the only soul brave enough to trim Rex's nails, but he's wise to her efforts and heroically refrains from napping during the evenings that she's with us. She currently sleeps here a few nights a week to cut down on the commute to work, and when she's sitting on the couch with us Rex keeps one eye open. So far, she's been cunning enough to cut 8 nails, which leaves slightly more than half to go.

The cat's urine corner has provoked much interest from my readership, particularly from Singapore, and I'm curious to know why the cat travails spread so far and wide? Is cleaning up after pets (and children) a universal theme? Is lack of success also universal? For we have done two carpet cleanings, one oxy application, a baking soda dosage and numerous vacuuming and that corner still issues ammonia fumes. Aden rode the exercise bike near the infamous pee square and - after finishing a heated workout - sprinted from the house to get a few inhalations of fresh air. The door slammed so loud I thought the zombie apocalypse was upon us.

In today's issue of "house challenges" we have a new air conditioning unit being installed on the east side of the house. I cringe at the banging, drilling and dropping of heavy objects, but now in the quiet stillness of what must be lunch time, I also worry that the highly-touted, far-more-efficient unit will not be done as promised this afternoon. Though I feel fortunate to live in a house, 2023 has been a hard on the repair and replacing budget. I wish I could curl up and sleep with the cat, but I have to go clean up all the messes.

Living Room Urinal

From exotic European locales to the acrid scent emanating from my living room - how the pre-summer season has turned! 

We woke up yesterday to a horrible smell that seemed to originate in the litter box and we immediately moved both outside to clean both the litter and the plastic receptacle. Did that work? We returned to sniff and decided... definitely not. My nose led me to a corner of the living room, near the exercise bike, which apparently had been turned into a private urinal by one of our two cats - I suspect the older, buff individual of often sour temper.

My nose burned and I gagged when I found the source on the (previously white) carpet / couch / fireplace. Such a befoulment has never occurred in the 8 years of owning pets. The cat wanted to punish us, that was clear, but what was the family crime? Perhaps leaving for 10 days, or being late to breakfast?

I am, admittedly, OCD about odors and cleanliness of our floors, perhaps because I was in charge of sweeping and washing the kitchen floors as a young person. I grew to love (no, practice intensely) that job until growth and bad joint alignment made floor washing on my knees painful. If memory serves, the job then went to my brother (but I'm horribly afraid that I'm whitewashing the memory and my poor mother actually took that over for me - at least until we got a mop).

Yesterday I scrubbed and cleaned to no avail. Texts went to friends who had carpet cleaners, until Rob got tired of my moaning and just bought one. We carpet cleaned and scrubbed and put the air purifier in the living room. This morning, I cautiously emerged from the bedroom and decided... better but not gone.  I never wanted pets! Oh for the dolorous begging of children that lead me down dark paths.

Another weekend day to scrub and clean and attempt to purify the house before I use it as my office all week. I'm off to buy peroxide and white vinegar, more detergent and stronger carpet cleaning solution. Wish me (and the errant cat) good luck. If the scent doesn't improve in Colorado's strangely humid June, the cat might be in hot water!

No Return to Normal

Easter surprised me this year with it's sudden arrival. Coming close on the heels of my trip to Montana, I was completely unprepared. The winter wreaths were still on the doors when I came home, the Easter baskets buried under layers of gift bags in the storage room. I scrambled to do the minimum of decorating (change wreaths to spring / Easter egg theme) and purchased candy for Rob and the kids.

On Easter morning I got up at 5:15 am to drive Daniel to the youth sunrise service. He and I were tired and grouchy afterward, as I made coffee cake and prepped bacon for brunch. The older kids arrived at 9am, Aden from Boulder and William from bed, where he had only had a few hours of sleep. So much for excited kids searching for the Easter bunny's hidden eggs! No one really likes hard-boiled eggs, so I skipped them.

William and Daniel both fell asleep as we watched the 9am service online, and I jumped up to start the eggs after the sermon. A convenient service, but lacking the emotion of the soaring sopranos and horns that always move me to tears when we are in-person.

After brunch, Aden and I chatted while the boys dispersed to batting cages or bed, and I quickly cleaned up the Easter baskets so the cat wouldn't eat the green plastic "grass." The briefest Easter basket appearance in the history of our family, cut short because we didn't want to kill our cat!

Nothing is the same, do you feel that? Not only because the kids are growing up but because we have all changed, are still changing. My trip to Montana was a giant step toward joy, but not really toward normal. As my sister says, "there is no more normal. We never have any idea what the next day will hold, we just meet it as best we can." True, and disorienting.

Rex, the same cat who would binge on a diet of plastic grass if we let him, escaped last night when Daniel was taking out the trash. Of course we didn't realize it until three hours later, when I noticed his absence from the couch in our TV room, where he always dozes at night. We combed the house, and the boys hit the streets near us, shouting his name and waving flashlights. Daniel found Rex crouched in the bushes of our neighbor two doors down, and chased him back up the street and right through our front door.

The cat was spooked by his adventure, his eyes the size of dessert plates and his fur puffed out to five times it's normal volume. He immediately ran upstairs to hide under our bed, only to emerge some time later to drink as if he hadn't seen water in years.  Which reminded me of me, as I now venture back out into the world of in-person work and travel, letting my boys go back to school five days per week.  My eyes wide and my metaphysical fur on fire, excited for old routines but tearing back into the house later as if I hadn't sought refuge in years.