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July 31, 2007
California Cafe, Vacation, and the Need for the Rug Exorcist
"Your nose knows when you have a cat."
-- kitty liter commercial.
Well, your carpet knows it too. Especially when you have particularly barfy cats who enjoy barfying dark colored food. More info than you wanted re: the inner workings of the Smith-R household? Too bad. Maybe it will make you lose your appetite just before you were thinking of embarking upon a cheesecake and Krispy Creme with Lays potato chips (not the Light Olestra variety) on top. Then I've done a public service.
We rented the Rug Doctor. I love the Rug Doctor. It really does do an amazing job on carpets. Makes them look like new... unless, of course, they have serious stains. Like cat barf. I don't need the Rug Doctor. I need the Rug Exorcist.
I tried. Really, I did. My parents are on their way here from North Carolina. My step-mother is the best housekeeper I've ever met. She keeps a smashingly beautiful home. She was a home ec major, and she could be an interior designer as a profession if she wanted to. She knows how to fix everything, and that which she can't fix (like a German car) her son, my step-brother can fix. They are visual, mechanical people. They make beautiful things, easily, with grace. Without crying, throwing a temper tantrum, or complaining about the fact that when one owns a house, one can not simply call the apartment people to fix little problems like flooded basements.
My father and I, however, are from the visually and mechanically challeged branch of the family. If confronted with a vial of ebola virus on one side and an Ikea futon needing assembly on the other, we'd seriously consider ebola. We have developed skills, such as the ability to charm those with handyperson abilities, and the ability to get good jobs that make decent money, so that we don't have to do these sorts of tasks. We are also both very good cooks, and we make a decent low carb mixed drink. My father has used his talents to attract and keep for more than twenty years a woman who could put together a futon, install screen doors, turn a pigpen into a palace, and still look gorgeous at the end of the day. I alas, have attracted a mate who is perfect on all scores, but not a handyman.
MR isn't much for mechanical stuff. His parents soaked up all those genes. They're HOUSE PEOPLE. They remodel things for fun! I can't imagine. They saw a million things that needed to be fixed in our house. I resisted the temptation to hide under the couch. I am not a HOUSE PERSON. I'm glad I have the house. I am excellent at paying the mortgage. I am grateful that the roof doesn't leak. But other than that, I don't much care.
My parents are coming, and for the first time in my life, I am not stressed out about their visit. I guess it's good at that 33 I've finally accepted that I will never be as good a housekeeper or decorater as my step-mother. They don't care either. My father thinks I have the most exciting life of anyone he has ever met. A lot of times I think it's like that Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times." But he finds it exciting. He did make a snide comment in 1996 about the state of my college apartment four days before I had to move out. That was unwise: we are Southern, we hold a grude. I was angry, hurt, humilated, and beat myself up for years about not cleaning the place properly (just after finals and before graduation when I was moving out.) But I got over it. Day before yesterday. Now I'm fine with the whole project. My house is okay.
The good thing is, my step-mother, who really is a genius, and Southern so never critical at least not to your face, can help me figure out how to arrange the place so that it's beautiful. It's a question of where should the furniture go? And should there be different furniture? If so, what? I don't think about these things. I like the fact that the walls are blue. Should there be blue furniture? Do I have to throw out the old hand-me-down couch from my former pastor that is the world's greatest couch to sleep on, but is covered in a ratty old slip cover that has been clawed half to death by a giant tabby? Do I need to buy end tables that match? MR's parents say that the thing I call a coffee table is not a coffee table, but an end table. I said something to the effect of, politely, I really don't care. I know that you are only expressing your love and concern for us, your adored child and child-in-grace. But I do not care if the coffee table started its life, leaving the Ikea factory, thinking it would live out its days as an end table. It's perfectly happy in the middle of the living room.
As you can see, I am not a house person. I vacuum, I clean the bathroom, MR and I share the cleaning of the kitchen, I take care of the various cat issues, I wash the sheets towels and change them, I dust. The department of health will not be closing the place down. But decorating? What about throwing around a few candles? Does that count? My old best friend framed some art prints for me a few years ago, and I hung them. That's good, right?
Rugs, I think, may be the answer. When the cats die, which I hope will be never, we'll buy new carpet. But there's no point till then. Perhaps dark, washable rugs? I decorated my old apartment in an array of carpet remnants and bathroom rugs. It was like a patchwork quilt, actually. It was absurd but rather cute. I was single back then and decorated my entire bathroom in Hello Kitty. My mother, who is also single, did the same. We like it. We are grown women... we can have all the Hello we want. We are Kitty: hear us roar!
Today, I met a lovely woman in the grocery store who admired my Hello Kitty hot pink purse. She said her daughter, age five, would adore it. I gave her directions to the Sanrio store at King of Prussia mall and then found two Hello Kitty stickers in my bag and gave them to her to give to her daughter. She was most grateful. Good kitty karma, thought I. You do a cat a good turn, or a five year old girl, and you get good karma. I need all the karma I can get.
Steph was exactly right on re: what I ate: wine country salad, grilled shrimp instead of chicken. Saved the tails for my "cat." My mother took me out for a wonderful birthday lunch, then we wandered the mall, soaking in the air conditioner on a hot day. She also gave me a new Hello Kitty wallet, in addition to the birthday jewlery set she bought for me: delicate pink necklace and earrings from our friend the jewlery maker. Very nice.
Dinner at home was brussels sprouts in a lemon basil broth with garlic, purple onions, Lancaster farm tomatoes from Mom, a dash of Worstershire sauce, and eggwhites for protein. That was MR's dinner; I ate my quotidian lunch salad as I had eaten lunch out. See, there I go, eating my own stable, boring but well-loved food again.
Tomorrow my parents (father and step-mother) drive in at around two. I know we'll have a wonderful time. I miss them, as I don't see them often. It's hard, living so far away. I'm glad that I'm sufficiently un-worried about the house that I am looking forward to their visit with all excitement and no trepidation.
I am, at the moment, one of the most successful union organizers in the country. I am in love with the most amazing man on earth who shares his cat-a-tat with me (that's what they call a habitat at Big Cat Rescue, and I've gotten rather hooked on the terminology.) I'm healthy, happy, in love, still happy at my job after all these years, and managing to make it to Pilates class on time. Even to loan a fellow Pilates student a sweater when the studio is cold.
I will never be Martha Stewart. But perhaps I will avoid going to jail for insider trading.
One must, always, count one's blessings.
Posted by april at July 31, 2007 7:50 PM
Comments
If the couch is comfy, you don't need a new one. Waste of resources, waste of your time in trying to find one that's as comfy as the current one! At most you might need a new throw, but then the cats will just attack that one, so... :-)
I like the idea of rugs, but at some point have obviously been told in dire tones about the dangers of tripping over the edges of them, as this possibility concerns me enough that I don't really contemplate getting any. (Also they're hard to vacuum because they get all pulled up by the sucking.) Mind you, if one is (as I am) given to wandering round the house reading/reading the laptop & not looking where one is going, most things are dangerous.
Posted by: Juliet at August 1, 2007 1:50 AM
As the companion to a cat with an exceedingly delicate stomach and a taste for inedibleslike shoelaces, hair ties and dead moths, here's my thoughts on flooring.
1. If you can manage to install tile or other hard surface flooring go for it! One of the things that convinced us on our current apartment is that only the stairs, bedroom and office are carpeted. The tile is way easier to clean. We've also developed supersonic hearing when it comes to the sound of the cat puking, and often can move him from a carpeted room into the tiled hallway. (Yes, he hates it when we do this.)
2. Try to be as agressive as you can about cleaning up puke spots on the carpet as soon as you see them. Keep carpet cleaner spray and a stiff brush or old sponge handy at all times.
3. Throw rugs are your bestest friends. Go for a pattern, over a solid, and rather than just going dark, try to get rugs with a ground color that roughly matchs the color of the cat food you buy. Yeah, I know it's a little gross and depressing to be thinking of the color of cat puke when you're shopping, but trust me, it's better than looking at stains on your otherwise beautiful rug.
Posted by: thatgirljj at August 1, 2007 10:38 AM
Yuck. Cats are gross. I've seen so many cats that people have let out either going into or coming out of sewers... then these owners let these things into their house. Disgusting.
Posted by: Courtney at August 1, 2007 3:40 PM
I love cats - I own two myself - but I must admit, they are *so* gross. I cringe every time I hear the pre-barf noises my cats make. It's particularly disgusting when I've just sat down to a lovely dinner and I hear the "blech, blech, blech" sound emanating from some deep, dark corner of my house.
Fortunately, I have hardwood floors, which are much easier to clean up than carpeting. Still...yuck!
Posted by: Robin at August 1, 2007 7:31 PM
I think there must be a similarity between parents of children and parents of cats. I diapered my four children for two and a half years X 4. I got quite oblivious of the smells emanating from the little tykes. On the other hand when I visit my friends who have cats - indoor cats - I feel nauseated by the smell. The owners dont seem to be aware of the smells. That's the reason my pets have been dogs and birds.
Peg D
Posted by: Peg D at August 1, 2007 11:20 PM
Happy Birthday!
:o)
Posted by: Serena at August 2, 2007 7:27 AM