the catpiss chronicles

As the readership numbers for this little corner of Blogistan have increased significantly the past

month or so, it's been difficult at times to respond appropriately. The least of the difficulty has been the Great Retooling, which I'd been putting off, until my beloved and well-traveled Apple Mac finally  died two weeks ago. I'd had it since '08, a very welcome gift from my daughter during one of the hardest times of my life, and for the past five years it's gone everywhere with me.

The little inboard disc player died some time ago, and the keyboard was gradually being pounded into dust (several keys were dead already) when I spilled water into it in LaVerkin, Utah one fateful night. So out came the reinforcements which I'd been planning to bring into action since early fall -- just never got around to it (You know how it is). I must say, it's not been easy, but finally I'm up and running with a new i-Pad and wireless Logitech keyboard to go with it. This machine is not user-interface easy like the Mac was, and I'm still struggling with pictures. But it's doable, and with a stand for the pad, a real trendy looking little setup. Anybody who's thinking about going this way should consider springing the 50 for the keyboard, 'cause if you write a lot, the little touch-screen keyboard will drive you crazy. I'll have more to say about in the coming days.

But that's all boring tech stuff anyway, about which even I don't care that much. And by far the biggest distraction for this prompt, neat, and conscientious blogger the past couple weeks has been the catpiss. My new lady love and I just bought a house in Arizona that was saturated with the stuff, and we've spent as much time as we're physically capable of (she's 65, and I'm nearly 70) decontaminating our double wide. For a while we feared that horror of a smell would never be gone, and our purchase would sit idle for years as we moved through a string of fleabag motel suites, laboring in vain like a couple Sisyphuses and living on hope and hot showers.

The process began with ripping out the old wall-to-wall, of course, which thankfully we didn't do. We paid our neighbors to don their full hazmat suits (they do that kind of work), and we followed, first applying bleach to the floor, then sweeping and scraping it, and followed that by spraying on a deodorizer, and then a thorough coat of Kilz white primer. The place began to look better, but it still stunk like Pyewacket's pissoir, and we began to gnash our teeth and make big lamentations.

In desperation, almost, Ms. Kit called the Chem Doctor, and a couple of young guys came to the site yesterday and applied 7 or so gallons of Godnosewot to the worst spots on the floor. When I left there the place looked and smelled positively dreadful, but when we showed up today -- as the French say -- Viola! (just one of my little jokes ha ha). I guess this means I should sit down and type a nice email to Chem Doctor telling them your product works great, the guys were knowledgeable and friendly, and the sun rises from your butts because of all you did for us.

We'll be off next week, while the neighbor guys, Bob and Pete, paint the inside of our lavish new 2-piece manufactured shelter,  and lay new flooring. We'll kick it a mile or so away here at the Econolodge Inn and Suites -- it ain't Mesa's finest but it gets the job done -- and I anticipate writing a few tasty blog posts, cooking some serious and thoughtful meals, and spending some quality time with my cat.

And don't worry, we're going hardwoods this time. We've learned to just say no to rugs.