Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Your First Lesson: Do Not Eat Lysol

Some of our very best friends in the whole world just had a baby on Monday. I still cannot believe we are now of the age where people are getting knocked up intentionally. But if any two people should have ever procreated, well, go K & E. She’s the most darling squishy-faced thing I’ve ever seen. At least from what I can tell in the two pictures on Facebook. I am desperate to meet her, but am not holding out good odds that it will be anytime soon, because The Funasaurus is sick AGAIN and I am not sure a) he will be completely well by the time it’s convenient to visit or b) that I won’t have caught whatever variation of the plague seems to be mutating around our house these days.

Every day after my darling husband leaves for work, I Lysol every doorknob, light switch, and handle in our house. I love him, but I do not kiss him these days. I feel we are both slightly grumpier for this alteration in our habits. (But I’m not sick! … yet.)

Meanwhile, I don’t think it’s a good situation for Tatum, either, as the knucklehead is fond of chewing on our toilet handles. I imagine he’s consumed more than his fair share of Lysol recently, as much as I try to keep the bathroom doors closed.

He’s developed an interesting habit, though, and I’m not sure if it’s a Lysol-induced trance or just his own newest quirk, but I’m still trying to decide if it’s endearing or annoying. It’s a fine line with that cat. He is still obsessed with his faux mice, and has become deeply interested in playing fetch at the most inopportune times. (Try EVERY SINGLE TIME I’m on a conference call.) He brings me the mouse, and when I do not respond in a timely enough (1.6 seconds) fashion, he starts howling, and pawing at me. Then the pawing turns to clawing. And soon enough, he finds himself caught in the fibers of whatever pants/shirt I am wearing. But instead of backing off and trying again, he goes for the lazy (?) way out and leaves his claws where they are and just hoists himself up to them. Which usually brings him to my lap, wherein he immediately is like, HEY! SOFT! and throws himself down and falls asleep. So Tatum has turned uber cuddly, and takes about 20 naps a day in my lap. Which is cute. Until the howling and clawing start again. Fortunately, it doesn’t take him long to get caught again and then excited about his next nap, so I’ve learned to just wait for it to cycle through until he’s snoring peacefully on my knees so that I can unmute my line.

Welcome to the world, EGM. I’m totally o.k. with it if you ever want to chew on my stupid cat. I’m not sure he’d notice.

2 comments:

Jenn said...

Oh dear. I had so hoped that warmer weather and more sunshine was going to clear your house out!!! Tell your husband he needs to get better so you can so see his (former) namesake. Who is very cute and obviously totally adored by her parents and new grandparents!

And Tatum is just ridiculous. I love that cat. He got none of Sugar's smarts but plenty of happy-go-lucky fun genes...and, at his current rate of Lysol consumption, will be fully inoculated to all diseases!

Christie said...

I have bronchitis, so Jay and I are not exactly on the "making out" schedule he is accustomed, making him cranky.