D-Man

I’m so excited about the knit-along! We’re up to thirteen now (including myself of course; I like to inflate the numbers). Of course, that means I actually have to start it at some point soon. I finished the last pocket of the LoTech Sweat last night, and if I have the gumption, I’ll start seaming tonight. Then I’ll just have the button bands to do!

I have a sneaking suspicion it’s not going to fit. I might have made it very small. And I am not. Uh-oh.

I have things to say, and I can’t remember them. Those thoughts I can remember, I don’t want to write about. I’m in a dither. Nothing important, I’m sure.

I’m waiting for my landlord to come over. In two years of living here, I’ve never met him. He’s in town and wanted us all to get together. (I live in the bottom apartment of a large house.) That can’t be good, can it?

I’m going to distract myself from worrying – Do you know how great my cats are? I know, everyone says that, but no one else has a Digit. He’s such an asshole. He could go pro at it, I think. He’s the most curmudgeonly cat ever – he even growls sometimes when he’s purring. He gets confused.

Oh! But when I came home Monday night from the festival, I was in the bedroom putting things away, storing the old flashlights, generally puttering. And I Smelled A Smell. A far-off, dried up smell, but it was there. I sniffed my way around the room – you know the way you do. Traced it to across the room, near the bed, close to the window and found it.

Digit had pissed all over the down comforter. This had obviously been right when I left, since it was mostly all dried up. But it had gone through all layers of the bed. Only the mattress (thank you good sweet god) was unscathed. There was still a damp sticky yellow puddle at the bottom of the wall.

This is the most unpleasant aspect of a cat (well, that and cat spray and he doesn’t know how to do that, thank god). I swore and cursed and kicked my toe against the desk on accident. I LOVE my down comforter. And this is the second time he’s done it. He’s very clever. He’s only peed twice in the house, both times now on the bed, and one time he pooped a very small poop right into the heel of my Birkenstock. When it’s small like that and the heel is deep, you don’t notice the squooshing that’s happening until you’re almost out to your car.

He picks the things that are almost IMPOSSIBLE to clean.

Okay, now I’m irritated with him, all over again. But I love a challenge, always have.

While I was re-making the bed (after double-washing everything but the comforter, which I took off to the horrified cleaners), this is what he did. It’s his favorite game, being under the sheet, me grabbing and wrastling with his head while he flails underneath. It’s a growl-purr fest.