poop.

To add to all the moments in life that I already, wisely, know I should dread - childbirth, getting a shot, walking in high heels in pouring rain, biting into a piece of chicken and gaggingly chewing a piece of cartilage, etc., I now have one more.

Going home at lunch.

Why? you may ask.

Because of poop. That's why.


Today, I left at noon to return dutifully home to take the dog out and eat my lunch to the chorus of outraged people on Judge Alex. On my way I spoke with my husband on the phone. He reminded me that his friend/coworker was going to come over tonight - something we'd forgotten. He was going to come over and awesomely help with moving furniture for the renovations on the bedroom. Our house isn't in the best shape at the moment what with our dining room/bedroom, boxes of our crap, boxes of new crap, construction dust, and 3 cats and a dog - but I thought I'd just get our act a little bit together when I got home at the end of the day, no big deal.

I walked through the door at about 12:10 p.m. and into a tangible cloud of SMELL. Poop. Our house smells like poop. We're having company tonight, everything is everywhere, and the poop is overwhelming.

Dexter's housebroken - so I knew it couldn't be him. I cautiously dropped my stuff off on the couch and crept around the first floor. I tiptoed around the kitchen. I guess I thought I was going to surprise the poop. No luck, I couldn't find it anywhere, but moving through the house was like swimming in the smell of poop.

I finally walked over to let Dexter out of his crate and immediately walked to the door. I took him out fretting about the facts as I knew them: Either poop was somewhere behind or underneath something and I was never going to find it - or I'm a disgusting house keeper and my house has decided to rebel by smelling like poop.

It turns out I was wrong, because, after bringing Dexter back inside, I stood thinking in the doorway of the living room thinking, "If I was a cat and was pissed about being forced out of my favorite room, where would I poop?" When I glanced down and noticed that Dexter's old (brown) bed carcass was balled up in his food dish - not so unusual... but then it looked like parts of it were on the floor out side his crate... and on the rest of the crate pad... and his food looked liquified....

For goodness sakes.

I stood transfixed for a good 5 minutes, and then resolved to move all poopy soft items to the kitchen, and wipe up the floor and the crate itself. I barely had time to eat before I left to go back to work and now all the poopy stuff is in the room where we prepare food.

Awesome.

I. Am. Awesome.

Greg now knows that he is to come home, take everything outside and either toss or power wash everything. He's told me he'll take care of it, and I have nothing to worry about. Except I do worry. I spent an hour in that smell-cloud... do you think it rubbed off on me? How would I know? What if I'm contaminated? ugh.