Can We Start Again, Please?

So far I have to say that, in all honesty, 2006 has not really impressed me yet. Here’s why.

First of all, I have had a really bad sore throat and head congestion for the past three days which, besides just making me feel icky, also makes it very difficult to talk. If you know me at all, then you know that this period of enforced silence has been an extreme hardship unto itself. I can only assume that this is the result of having had to be extra-charming for extended visits with my in-laws, my family, and my brother’s fiance’s family, all in one week.

So as I was lying in bed this afternoon, reading about the Sweet Potato Queens and brainstorming for possible Queenly titles I could bestow upon myself, I heard my husband call out to me from the living room: “Could you come here for a minute? I need your help.”

He certainly did, as I discovered when I entered our living room to find a large portion of attic insulation lying on the floor, and a sizable hole in the ceiling. Fortunately, as I have had some previous experience with this kind of situation, and since there was not a Scary Act Of Nature taking place outside, and since it was impossible that I could in any way be held responsible for this, I was able to remain calm. He was actually pretty calm too, since he had been able to complete the latest step necessary in his Pursuit Of A High Quality HDTV Signal. Apparently, a big giant hole in your ceiling is a small price to pay for good TV.

So the crisis passed, and I was feeling a little bit better…until I heard The Noise. If you have animals, you already know what The Noise sounds like, but for those of you without animal companions I will try and reproduce it here.

HOI-HOI-HHOOOIIINNNKKKAAAACCCCKKKK

That noise is, of course, the sound of the big cat horking stuff up all over the rug. In more than one spot.

Having lived with cats now for over 8 years, my husband and I have well-honed, highly ingrained abilities for dealing with this kind of situation, which mostly involve going off by ourselves so we can figure out how to make the other person clean it up. This often leads to our own, unique, slightly twisted style of gambling and upping the ante.

My Husband: I’ll trade you hanging up the clothes in the dryer and switching out the dishes in the dishwasher.
Me: I see your dishes and your laundry, and I’ll raise with dumping the trash and scrubbing the toilet.

It’s amazing, really, when push comes to shove, how many other things we can find that we are willing to do instead of cleaning up all the stuff that comes out of the cats. (Like figuring out how to turn it into a funny blog post, for example.) Of course, it’s even scarier when we come upon things we want to do even less than clean up cat stuff. But that’s another post. Right now, it’s gamblin’ time.