|Gulliver. Cool cats, they were.|
Enough about the cats. As I was cleaning up their stuff, I realized that I needed to clean the entire basement. Not just the cat stuff. Holy crap. And so I moved from one end of the basement to the other, removing every last bit of unnecessary junk. Seriously, why did we still have the car seats from when our now-teenagers were in preschool?
I finally emerged from our subterranean-jungle-of-clutter-aplenty about 6 hours later, with a feeling of self-satisfied achievement. I am going to let go of the fact that as I was poking the insulation back up into the rafters, an empty pecan shell fell out. What kind of entitled vermin were eating premium nuts in my basement rafters?! And who cares that I couldn't breathe through my nose anymore and that my throat burned in a kind of unsettling way? The damned basement was clean. Check that off the list, save for the immense pile of Jay's stuff in the middle of the room by the water heater, waiting for him to rifle through everything and complain that I could have been a bit kinder and not just chucked everything into immense storage boxes all haphazardly and without regard. Doh.
|From sailboat halyards and mooring buoys, to golf clubs and fishing poles; bilge pumps and cycling trainers, to beer making carboys and baseball bats. You name it, it's there.|
Sitting here writing this, my sinuses are still blocked. And I am still all sneezy. And my throat is still sore. I can't help think that karma is paying a visit and letting me know how Jay has felt living with the cats all these years. Well, touché, karma--I got it! And Jay, I vow to keep you cat free from now on. But I still want a pet skunk.