Posts Tagged 'housework'

A Turd To Be Reckoned With

On my way upstairs for the night (or, “up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire,” as the Brits would have it) and I spot a small piece of landscape bark on the landing. I nudge it with my foot and realize my first impression was erroneous: it’s too rounded to be bark, it’s too dense, and I live with kobolds.

I’m too lazy to go fetch a kleenex for the job, so after a moment’s hesitation during which I’m pretty sure I’m gonna fully leave the turd lie, I finally pick the thing up with my bare hands, run it to a toidy and flush it. Washwashwashwash hands.

For some of you, maybe this is nothing. For others, maybe it’s unthinkably gross. For me, I’ve had worse. And I’ve learned the direct approach is the safest. One time I was scooping Maimer’s litterbox and there was a little lone poo on the floor next to the box. After chasing it around a bit with the scoop, I finally pinned it against the box side and tried to wiggle the scoop under it. It was a stalemate for about eight seconds (a liftime in turd terms), which was broken when the scoop slipped, the poo broke free and BECAME AIRBORNE, arcing right past my face. My life flushed–I mean flashed–before my eyes. When I’d recovered from the shock, I scurried after the errant feces, snatched it up and tossed it in with its brothers. Bare hands.

See, bare hands are nothin’. It helps to have some perspective. If I’d been yawning, I coulda had that thing in my mouth.

Saint George and the Sphinx

Ah, just finished vacuuming the carpet. Not very satisfying when you realize after all that work it’s still just the same eight-year-old crap carpet that Peebag has had her way with. But it does look better.

Poor Maim, she’s absolutely terrified of the vacuum cleaner, like it’s some kind of dragon that lives in the closet under the stairs along with the wrapping paper and old photo boxes. You’d think with her draconic heritage, she’d feel some kind of cameraderie with the evil bag of suck, but as far as her little Kobold brain can tell, it’s this mammoth creature that every now and then escapes from its den to rampage, thrashing and hissing around the house until I finally wrestle it back under the stairs.
I’m Maimer’s Saint George.
While I wrangle, panting and red-faced (I’m sadly out of shape), Maim just hides at the top of the stairs, calling to me occasionally for updates. Sometimes, the dragon even makes it all the way upstairs and Maimer has to flee to my room, the only place she knows the dragon dare not tread since it feeds on carpet and you can never see any in there.

I have a bird on my head

It’s where Finley likes to sit. And poop, unfortunately. But I haven’t showered yet, so it’s all good. I’m about to get busy here, really. In just moments, I will transform into a white tornado and clean this bear pit of a house. Sadly, the Sphinx is not a tidy mammal. There’s even little chunks of candy cane littering the floor, thanks to Maimer. Kristmas cheer, Kobold-style. Not that she likes peppermint… crinkling cellophane just gets her all excited. And once she discovered she could snap the candycane like bones between her teeth, there was no getting it away from her. That bell on her collar seriously injures her social life. A girl’s got to get her fun where she can.