Today when I parked at the kids' school to pick them up, I glanced at my odometer, which read: 110111 I know it's geeky cool, but how often does your odometer match the current date?
In other travel news, now that the weather is cooling off, the cats--which I don't want to claim, but they have been hanging around for eight years so maybe I should accept that they are ours--have started sneaking into the garage to spend the night. Usually we set out a box of kitty litter and don't have much of a problem with them spending winter nights there. Plus, they keep down the mice population. Unfortunately, this week we weren't so prepared...and we didn't know they had sneaked in when Kent parked the car until the next morning...
When Kent and the kids hurried away from breakfast to load up and attempt to get to school on time, they discovered a fresh-ish pile of cat poopy on the roof of Kent's car. With no time to search for plastic gloves to clean the mess, they all headed off to school. #4 told me all about the strange looks cast toward the car at the drop-off line. Students and teachers alike were doing double takes. My girls huddled in the car for a few seconds until they thought fewer people were looking, and then hurried into the school. Only a few of their friends were on to them. Fortunately, my kids have strong self-concepts and found mostly humor in the situation. I don't think anyone endured any teasing.
Kent brought the car right back home for me to deal with. He came in gagging and said just looking at that little pile on his car made him want to vomit. I had it cleaned up in less than a minute. To give him credit, I can't deal with certain mold scents that we find lurking in Tupperware in the back reaches of the fridge, let alone dead animals that show up around our house. He's disposed of birds, mice, a rat, a cat, and a skunk! So one pile of feces is a good trade I figure.
Do you and your spouse have complimentary weak stomachs for different things? Or is there one mess that neither of you can deal with well? What is you kryptonite?
By the way, anyone want a free cat or two?
2 comments:
Hate cat poop on the car. YUK.
Dad empties his whiskers from his electric razor into the bathroom sink; for some reason this really sends me; he has to be the one to rinse them down. I know---it's very weird.
Aw, I wrote a comment and it got eaten by the internet. :o(
I hand off anything blood related to David if he is around, but I can do it when needed. I end up doing most of the pet messes just because I tend to discover them.
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