There’s nothing like a welcome home. And you have to give our cat credit, she out did herself. New lawn ornaments… they’re EXACTLY what I wanted!

In truth, this is a comedy of errors and not entirely the cat’s fault. Our cat sitter closed off the doors to Snicker’s litter box on Thursday. Snickers, in dire need and I’m sure quite a bit of frustration, used our new couch as an alternative. Six days marinated in cat waste, my lovely couch is now decorating my yard. Later in the day, IZ will rent a truck and make a donation to the landfill. I’m not happy about that, but what can you do?

IZ, an ardent follower of Buddhianity, keeps saying, “Attachment to things only leads to suffering.” The reverse is true too, though—because now that I’m unattached to this couch, my backside is already suffering at the thought of sitting on our old futon. But praise the universe that I had a futon to haul up from the basement as a replacement couch. And praise the universe that we had a rug beneath the couch, so our carpet was spared. And PRAISE JESUS that the cat didn’t pick our bed. Oh. My.

I’m attempting to laugh. But people, it’s hard to laugh when your backside is yelling and your nose is complaining. I am the definition of vociferous! Every pore in my body is assaulted by this. We spent hours yesterday attempting to get the scent of cat pee out of our house. Heroic measures couldn’t rescue the couch. Once we realized this, we hauled it outside and immediately the gross factor inside the house started to abate. But by then, I had the smell of cat pee burned into my nasal passages and so it wasn’t enough to keep me from hauling in arm-loads of lilacs and burning scented candles. IZ steam cleaned the carpets while I walked around Fabreezing the air. Spray, spray; sniff-sniff!

So now, my couch is sitting on the lawn waiting to be hauled off to the dump. And I’m attempting to laugh. It’s hard work, people. Hard work.