Monday, January 8, 2007
Things That Occurred In The Deep Dark Hole I Fell Into Last Night
- Two cats that insisted upon crawling through our lower kitchen cupboards were often found sitting next to a bottle of bleach or in a cooking pot over and over and over again. We knew that they were in the lower cupboards by the banging of the doors and rattling of pot lids.
- We took turns pulling them out by tails and legs, cursing them for being such freaking idiots.
- I grew certain that I hated them, because the cat hair that fills my mixing bowls and roasters is obviously placed there by them with malicious intent.
- I stood bent over, forehead pressed into the counter, and cried Why oh why can't you kittens stay out of my cupboards. Everything is hopeless, hopeless, hopeless.
- After more gratuitous weeping, I mopped up some of my melted mascara and snuffled.
- I decided that it was time to install the magnetic cupboard door catches that the Palinode brought home eons ago. I can be quite handy, but last night was not one of those times. The screws were made of soft metal and their heads became too misshapen to screw properly before they had even been fully screwed. One fell into a hole in the cupboard. Another rolled into the grunge under the radiator. One of the cats nearly ate one before I forced his jaws open and fished it out.
- I regretted that and tried to encourage him to chew on it some more, but to no avail. Fucker.
- One of the screws, stripped beyond further screwing or unscrewing, required a wrench for removal. I couldn't find the wrench, because our tools are scattered across baskets and drawers and boxes, so I used a pair of needle-nose pliers. Needle-nose pliers hurt like a son-of-a-bitch when they plunge into your index finger and then pinch what flesh they find.
- I was sure that my future would be filled with cupboards full of shedding cats, and I wept over my inability to properly install magnetic cupboard door catches.
- I spent several minutes watching my blister fill with blood and poking it to see if it was bursty. It wasn't.
- I found the pliers and proceeded to use them like a hammer, bashing at the two screws I had managed to partially wedge into the cupboard wood. I yelled a little. I made no headway with the bashing.
- The weeping, now a kneejerk reaction to any stressor, recommenced. I suck at screwing, I thought, and I didn't even manage to find it funny.
- Both cats tried to crawl over my lap and into the cupboard while I was blinded by tears. They are assholes with no sympathy for the injured, so I treated them like bowling balls and slid them out of the kitchen across the linoleum. They both fell over when they hit the metal divider between the kitchen and hall flooring. This made me feel a bit better.
- Two screws were ruined by this point, and now I was short screws. The bloody magnetic cupboard door catch company was too cheap to include any extra hardware. I wound my fingers into all two-and-a-half inches of my hair, pulled, and pulled my mouth into a silent scream.
- It is sad. It is all so sad. I am a failure at home repair. My cats suck. I've destroyed two screws, and I have a very painful blood blister on my index finger. How can I go to work tomorrow when I am so useless at simple tasks? WHY DON'T WE HAVE VODKA IN THIS HOUSE?! WHAT IS WRONG THAT WE DON'T HAVE VODKA IN THIS HOUSE?!
- My tears dripped into my lap, creating dark spots on my jeans. I felt that I would surely drown in the depths of my own patheticness.
- I walked into the living room, leaned against the Palinode as though I might collapse without his support, and confessed that I did not know what my reasons were to continue living anymore, and could he help me find them.
- And then, obviously, I died, because who could live through two cats in their cupboards, an aborted attempt at installing door catches, and a complete lack of vodka? No one, I tell you, no one.