The house. Oy. This house is a pet house. That explains some things…
Back when I was searching for my (not) missing camera batteries, I spent a fair amount of time going methodically through all the bags and corners my photography equipment might have been in since I came home from Iceland last July. The battery story ended happily (see Rabbit holes), and while going through that exercise, I found a few other things I’d lost track of and finally unpacked a large new bed for Luke. Of course, the cats and his little sister spent the afternoon testing it out before he got a chance to try it.
That Luke finally has his new bed also means there is a pretty large box hanging around my living room, ready to go out … as soon as the cats finish playing with that, too. (Is there any question who the actual heads of household are around here?) This is one of the other reasons stuff hangs out in my house longer than I should tolerate. I hear the “But they like it…” in my head and I melt all over again at the sight of the two cats playing whack-a-sibling around one of the corners. Too cute. There’s no one else to complain about the presence of a random large box – so it stays until I can’t stand it any more.
The pets make decluttering an adventure in many ways. When I reorganized a dresser a while ago, the cats kept jumping into the drawers and the dresser slots they came out of. Sometimes, even folding laundry is an adventure. Getting it done is a matter of limiting the amount of time clean laundry is on a flat, accessible surface because if I’m not quick enough, there will be a cat or a small dog on it and there will be consequences for requesting that they move. Little stinkers.
As previously noted, my terrier has made it her life’s mission to un-stuff every stuffed toy she can find, leaving rafts of batting wafting around for me to corral and discard. That leaves the damp, fuzzy remains of the toys, which I would also toss, except that she loves to carry them around and tease her brother into playing tug until there is truly nothing left. She does get every bit out of her toys, even if the bits are spread liberally through the house.
As if random boxes and chew toys weren’t enough, then we have the liberal application of fur to the environs. My older cat loves nothing more than curling up in my lap and shedding exuberantly as I pet her. I can brush her for half an hour and still have handfuls of fluff. There are days I swear there are fairy cats who come out at night and leave extra ammo. Not that I really mind. There are few things as sweet as a purring happy cat snuggling up to you in complete trust. On the other hand, the only way for me to really get the carpets near to fur-free is to vacuum almost daily. That’s a tough sell for someone who is not a big fan of noise or dealing with emptying the cup every four passes. Oh well. I get it done as I can – which means I need to get stuff off the floors and out of way. Which is to say, it does not happen often enough. Because – boxes…
One day I will have a handle on the housework. Until then, I’ll be grateful for the house and the pets that make it more work – because they also make it a home.
Stay tuned for more on the Here’s a Quarter blog next week! As always, your thoughts and comments are always welcome – they are moderated (I know – adulting again), so they may take a little while to appear, but I read them all and appreciate that you were here. Thank you!