I got home late last night from a super rad evening of music and spoken word (thanks Gray Skies Reading Series) and noticed a sour, gross smell in my office as I was checking my email. I thought maybe it was my own sweat I was smelling, which has a disgusting cat pee aroma when I drink too much coffee. Sorry. TMI.
I was guilty of drinking too much coffee yesterday, so I went to bed and hoped the smell would go away during the night.
This morning I started working on my computer. Bleh. My office REEKED of cat piss. Seriously, my eyes were (are still) burning.
So let me back up. My cat is 14 and is like the best cat in the world. And I’m not even a cat person. She’s never done anything like this before. We used to have a dog, who we called The Criminal, because he would scratch holes in walls and urinate and defecate on anything I cared about. He was only about 10 inches tall, but he was the devil incarnate.
But the cat, she’s always been the angel. Until now.
I smelled around near the door and she’d definitely peed there. I let her out all the time. She has a cat box. What gives?
Let me back up again. To yesterday, which was the best day ever. I met a friend for coffee. There was all this good energy and connection.
I got my hair cut by this magical woman named Megan who listened to my adventures in “The Writing Life” like she was genuinely interested.
We talked about making big life changes and how sometimes that means changing your friends and she suggested I blog about it. We bonded over both having a connection to Spokane, a.k.a. Spokompton. All the while she was blowing out my hair so that it was smoother than it’s ever been–like hair in a commercial.
I got all kinds of compliments at the reading on the hair. I couldn’t stop twirling its silkiness around my fingers, which made me look creepy but in a Kristen Wiig sort of way, so it was okay.
Yesterday was so fabulous that today seems even worse just by comparison. I mean, yeah, the cat pee sucks. The dead baby mouse on my porch sucks. But cats are animals, right. They do that. Should I really take it personally?
Probably not, but when I think about yesterday, I realize I made one fatal mistake. And maybe I’m paying for it today.
Here’s what I did (confession time): I under-tipped the fabulous woman who cut my hair.
I didn’t mean to. I was talking and writing and sometimes that ends badly.
Also, I usually get my hair cut at some cheap place with the words “master” or “great” in the title. Yesterday, I was feeling special and wanted to raise my game.
But honestly, I wasn’t fully prepared for the cost of being special. So it was part shock and part bad multi-tasking that let to the horrible under-tipping event. Less than 10 percent. I know, right?
I’m sorry, okay? I will try to shift the karmic balance somehow. I’ll over tip next time.
Meanwhile, I’m going to find something called “Nature’s Miracle.” It’s supposed to help get the awful odor of cat piss out of my wood floor.
And I’m leaving my office for the day. Before I scratch my eyes out.
P.S. Febreze only makes it worse. Like a cat pee and chemical flower potpourri. Ungood.