I confess that I am not a domestic goddess. I have a huge stock pot in which I have never cooked anything. I use it to soak my feet. They are deliciously soft. I have been known to email pictures of my toes to people upon request. I don't really clean either. I spray the cat with Lemon Pledge and chase him around the house. There is very little dust in here, but the cat fur is out of control.
I have let the guinea pig's cage get so revolting that it has grown mushrooms. Twice. So, it should be no surprise that I haven't checked the cat's litter box since I got home on Sunday.
A few days ago, I noticed a rank odor near my desk. I solved the problem by spending less time at my desk. At last, it became overwhelming. I changed the litter box with Hissy's help. He spread the litter out in a fine gritty layer over the floor. We played cat archaeologist together and found many ancient relics. We did not find the source of the smell.
My cat nanny always surprises me when I come home. Sometimes, I get a case of motor oil. Other times, I am missing a pair of panties. This time, I was gifted with two boxes, one jug, and one 30 gallon bucket of kitty litter sitting on the floor. I pushed the containers up against the wall. The bucket of litter had a note on top of it. It read:
"This litter was crappy before it was even crapped it. Do not throw it away, I am going to return it to PetSmart."
Not thinking, I lifted the lid of the drum of litter. It was beyond damp. The fumes rose from the litter like heat rises from a hot road in the summer. I gagged. Then, I gagged again. Hissy looked offended. I replaced the lid and called the cat sitter.
He explained to me his plans to bring the litter back to PetSmart for a full refund. I plan on being there to see the store manager turn green from the 120 pound bucket of sh*tty litter.
I may be persuaded to post my first video.