Today it was Lilu’s turn to get fixed, so she wasn’t allowed to have food all day, so I had to lock her in my office. But the kittens needed the litter box downstairs, so she used… a corner. For her diarrhea. Ew. Wash hands wash hands wash hands.
At 3 we took her down to the vet. He said to come back in an hour, so since we had time to kill, we went to check out the new car wash. It’s cool, there’s this water-wand thing, and you put your token in the machine and push all these buttons to get different substances blasted at your car at different pressures. DrBob handled the water-wand aspect of things (because when I tried it I nearly blasted myself across the lot). I put coins in the machine and pushed buttons. We got a little damp. End fun interlude.
Lilu’s a tough customer, apparently, and needed two hits of kitty sedative before she passed out. Well, one wasn’t enough, but two was maybe too much. Because where Fufu managed to stagger out of the basket and pee on the carpet after her operation, Lilu slept right through that, and so was sleeping in… ickiness… which I didn’t notice until she woke up, cross-eyed. I got her out of that (wash hands wash hands wash hands) and transferred her onto a towel, where she promptly threw up (wash hands wash hands wash hands). I moved her off the towel onto a throw-rug and went downstairs to get some Windex and paper towels, and she siezed the opportunity to stagger around my office and fall over and leave cat-butt-shaped ick-prints, oh, pretty much everywhere. O-kay, time to mop. Wash hands wash hands wash hands.
Right. That done, the paper towels aren’t doing enough to get the ick off Lilu. She needs a shower. The menfolk, noses-down in a game of Carcassonne, decline to help. Fine, I do it myself. Dry cat with towel. Wash hands again. She’s still stinky, and now, so am I.
Peace reigns for almost half an hour, and then I hear a whooshing sound and some shouting-husband sounds. I race downstairs to see him clutching the now-faucetless pipe on the stone sink on the patio, and he shouts “turn it off at the main valve!” Ummm, yeah… that is one of those things you do when you buy a house, isn’t it, you find out where all that stuff is. I know it was on my to-do list at some point. Okay, basement. Hey, some pipes! Two things that could be the main valve. I turn both. The wrong way. Then the right way, then the wrong way again. Argh. Sodden husband squelches downstairs, figures everything out. The patio is now a wading pool. Curious children race around tracking water through the house. Sedated cat staggers out the door, followed by frisky kittens. Argh.
Ho-kay. Get towel, wipe up water tracked all over house. Retrieve cats. Clean kitchen, because it’s there, and because I’m embarrassed at how badly I did with the whole main-valve thing. Need shower. Need sleep. Need a nice, uneventful day tomorrow, please.
Song du jour of the day: Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go, by Wham!