I was sitting at the kitchen table, absentmindedly stroking my cat Lily who was resting comfortably and purring on my lap. The kids were all engaged in various activities like whining, crying, fighting, screeching and all around acting like completely out of control moronic idiots. Typical kiddo indoor play.
I zoned out, losing myself in a fantasy. One of peace, quiet and pussy. Er…kitty cats. I don’t go there, only my own…to trim around the edges. Not that there is anything wrong with it, of course. It’s just not me. BUT. That is a major digression…
I was in a happy place. A calm, quiet, normal decibel level place.
I was a cat lady living in a house at the end of a street. I was THAT woman that people whispered about. THAT house that kids won’t approach for Halloween. Which is fine because, if the door is opened too many times, a cat is sure to escape. The house that people avoided. Because of how bad it smelled.
But I didn’t care.
Because, you see. In my cat woman world, I leave my house without schlepping an entourage with me. Who cares if I smell strongly of cat piss and even more strongly of some cheap perfume that I heavily sprayed on myself thinking that it masked the cat odors. I was alone. No one saying my name.
I go to the bathroom with the door shut. Even though there are a couple of cats sitting on my lap, on the vanity and rolling on the floor. Also, a few furry felines scratching on the door to be let in. But I ignore them much easier than say…kids.
I sit and sleep in my bed without a kid attached to my arm. There are cats curled in balls all over. But I just kick them off to make more room for myself. They just complain, glare at me, lick their chops and go off to find another comfy place to stay.
I don’t worry about cooking for anyone but myself. There is no one but me to complain about what the menu for the meal is. And then, if I don’t like what I made, I feed it to the cats and take myself out for sushi. If I have leftovers, I would take home a kitty bag. Cats love sushi. Well, mine do.
I tell my cats all my deepest, darkest secrets and they promise with wide cat eyes to not tell anyone. Cats are great secret keepers.
I don’t have to bathe anyone. Or wipe anyone tushies. I don’t have to break up fights, well not kid fights anyways.
Life in my happy place. It’s always, well, happy.
There’s no one to answer to. No one to tell you that you are the worse mother possible. No one making noises, other than meowing. No one making messes.
Just my cats and me.
Then I realize. If it’s just me, sitting here in my happy place. Alone with a bunch of cats.
Then who the hell is going to clean the kitty litter. Because I sure am NOT doing that. Even in my fantasy.
I guess I’d have to hire Sven the Kitty Litter Cleaner.
Yeah. That’s it.
I’d watch him, in his tight pants. Bent over. Scooping clumps out of the copious amounts of litter boxes. He’d peer over at me, holding the pooper scooper. He’d flex his biceps and squeeze his butt muscles as he clears out all the cat shit from the poop receptacles.
That’s a much better little twist to my cat woman life.
Just as Sven is about to wash his hands and come sit next to me as I write him his weekly check…
A kid starts screaming that they are starving to death and brings me back to reality. It’s time to leave sven and my cat woman fantasy in order to make dinner.
And after dinner, time to get everyone into the showers, backpacks ready for school the next day.
I smile to myself. Because I’m looking forward to the next installment of my fantasy.
The one where Sven grooms the pussy…s.
What? It’s MY happy place.