When my alarm went off this morning, I woke completely unrested. It seems the entire family has a bad case of the jimmy legs last night. It was so bad that Bill had to seek refuge in Margaret's purple bedroom. I found him sleeping in her twin bed, barely covered by her baby quilt.
I tried to hurry though my morning routine to get to work a little early, but I've been overcome by lethargy lately. I blindly gathered my shoes, sweater, keys and bag and started my short drive to work.
Half way there I realized something was horribly wrong. The smell of cat pee scented the air. I grabbed my sweater and gave it a big sniff. It didn't smell peed on but it seemed to suggest that it had been hangin' with some piss of the feline variety.
I grabbed my bag and knew immediately that one of our cats, Ella, made me some freshly squeezed, cat lemonade. I knew it was her because she's been caught peeing on Bill's pajama bottoms last week and on the exact spot on the sofa where I stupidly had left my bag (I'm slow, I tell ya) on Tuesday.
I had told myself that I needed to take her to the vet, but our frantic schedule and my lethargy pushed the cats inappropriate urination unwisely to the back burner.
Now I arrived at work with a bag drenched in aromatic cat urine. I quickly took everything out. It's a big bag and I carry a lot of crap with me. Then I shoved those essential items — such as wallet, cellphone, checkbook — into a smaller bag I carry inside the large one (yes, I know, but let's just put my OCD, bag-carrying bizarrities aside for the moment, mmmkay?) and threw the big bag outside the car.
Then I stood there and looked at it. What should I do? I wanted to throw it away, but I like that bag and it's new and my mom just bought it for me for my birthday. After too long of a deliberation, I decided to toss the bag on to the floor of the backseat.
After washing my hands in uber-hot water, I settled in at my desk. But it was still there ... the smell of feline pee-pee. I picked up my small bag and realized that I missed the obvious — the small bag had pee on it too.
I found a plastic bag in my desk drawer and transferred my purse items there and took off to the kitchen sink to do some laundry. No use. The bag still reeked. It quickly joined its large bag brother in the car.
Within an hour of being at work, I was ready for breakfast. I had brought a package of instant oatmeal in my bag, but ... gag ... the idea of urine-tinged oatmeal makes me wanna harf. I took some change and headed to the vending machines ... but guess what? They hadn't been filled in days and were virtually empty.
Feeling that the world was out to get me today, I decided when I got a break in my work, I'd sneak out to the bagel shop for a breakie to go. As I was driving over, it started to rain — and, of course, I'd taken the umbrella out of the car so Margaret could play Mary Poppins with it last night and there were no parking spots close to the front door.
I parked behind the shop and dashed in carrying my grocery-bag-come-purse.
As I sat waiting for my bagel, I wondered why I was having such a crappy day, but then I noticed the rain had let up. My name was called and my order was complete ... maybe things were turning around for me. As I opened the door to leave, the crowded coffee shop watched as I slipped in a puddle.
Murphy ain't got nothin' on me.
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