"Cleanup on aisle nine ..."



LowTide Morning - September 1, 2018
"Cleanup on aisle nine ..."
It's three o'clock in the morning. David interrupts my dream as he elbows me in the side.
"The cat is sick."
Again? Ugh. Yes, Seb insists on sleeping with us. Yes, he gets his way.
With my eyes half open, I strip sheets and load the washer. We limp down the hallway to our guest room to ride out the remainder of our sleep-deprived evening.
Seb has digestive issues. We medicate and control his diet, which works 85 percent of the time. We spend the other 15 percent on clean up. When prompted, I wash, spray, and scrub.
Cleanup. It's what we do. For the moment, it seems this is unavoidable. Parents with young children understand.
I'm officially old, and it's not like I don't care anymore — I'm just tired of fighting the inevitable. Life is messy.
I try to keep things in order (more or less) and prevent incidents, but now I understand and accept that "it" will happen. When it does, most often it can be cleaned up. This mindset is liberating.
The energy spent on fretting that a thing will happen, or that it did happen, takes more energy than dealing with it after the fact. I'm talking about the everyday incidents, not earth-shattering events.
Maybe Seb convinced one of our houseguests to feed him something that is a trigger. I'm on crumb control actually hoping food is the culprit. That is an easy fix.
This afternoon, Seb is sprawled out in the chair that he usually has to share with us. We feel bad for him today, so we let him have the whole chair all to himself. I picture a cartoon bubble over his head with the words, "Ahhh, that worked like a charm!"
Tomorrow is another day.
Oh boy, is it ever!
Since my first draft of these words, my favorite "Crazy Cat Lady" mug tangled with my charger cord. Bits of mug scattered and coffee splattered. I appreciate even more that I drink my coffee black — no sticky in this mess.
Later the same day as I was unloading the dishwasher, I opened a cabinet, and a glass casserole dish spilled out whacking my arm before hitting the counter and shattering into a thousand pieces. Amazingly, no profanity ensued. The thought of returning to work Monday morning sounds pretty good.
For now, it's "Cleanup on aisle nine!"
~ LowTide explorer, Carolyn Fjeran
[LowTide is an eclectic collection of discoveries and reflective writings.]

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