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Monday, April 04, 2005
 
Douche
This past weekend was one of the highest highs and the lowest lows. Actually, there was just one low, but it was a pretty big one.

HIGHS*
-- Cleaning the house. No, really cleaning the house, which is kind of its own reward. We haven’t really cleaned our house since moving in four and a half years ago . . . so, yeah, it’s nice.

-- Dinner on Saturday. Michelle’s parents kept Mia Saturday night so that we could get some cleaning done, but we took a little detour . . . out to one of the nicest restaurants in town where one of my oldest friends happens to be the Executive Chef. I hadn’t talked to him in about two years, but I asked the waiter to let him know we were there. My friend sent out a bottle of champagne, two extra appetizers (tuna tartare in shot glasses and crab cakes), an extra salad, and desserts. He came to see us at the table for a few minutes and we promised to catch up soon. After bringing our desserts (to go), the waiter announced that my friend was picking up the entire tab. Really, getting a free dinner is great, but it was one of the best meals I’ve had in my life.

LOWS
The battle of the “pee chair.” In our cleaning, we decided to move some furniture around. Part of this effort included moving a chair back to the “office” from the living room. The chosen chair was the “pee chair,” which Archie had taken to spraying. This chair is 95% of the reason that people don't visit us. We've grown accustomed to our living room's smell; most people haven't. It wasn’t until we actually started moving the chair that we discovered the extent of the damage. Even though Archie hadn’t peed on the chair in several weeks, the bottom of it was still wet. It seems that his pee has soaked completely through the upholstery of the chair down to the netting on the very bottom; even the feet of the chair were pee-coated. By the time we wrestled the chair into the office, my hands were orange with pee. The inside of the chair was saturated. So, I cut off all the bottom netting and douched the innards with an aggressive vinegar/water attack, aided by our wet-dry vacuum. And then nuked it with all sorts of cat-odor-hiders and Febreeze-type stuff. The next morning, the room smelled like a burnt vinegar. I’m sure the pee will ultimately win out (as it is wont to do), but then there’s always the axe. And fire.


* We really didn’t do a lot this weekend. I thought there were several “highs.” Maybe the dinner was just several "highs" rolled into one.