OK, so, fine, I got new furniture—NEW furniture!—as in made to order, stuffed with down, fabrics I picked out, and roll arms on the chair—for the cat. I knew that once I got settled with my Sunday Times and coffee, she'd be at my side. Things have been heavenly.
Then, one morning I walk in the living room and am hit by that smell.
Cat piss.
Brow furrowed and nostrils aflare, I start sniffing the chair, the ottoman, the sofa. No, that's not it. A minute later, I can't detect it. Hours later as my daughter walks in the back door, she hollers, "Ma, don't you clean the cat box?"
"So, you smell it too."
Long story less long, I had ordered two boxes of citrus from my high school's music dept.—anything to send bass players out of town!—tangelos, and, yes, grapefruit. I didn't smell it a week ago, and I don't smell it today, but somewhere in its life cycle the grapefruit will indeed smell of cat pee, and oh, it has sillage (I was in the living room, the grapefruits were in the kitchen). Pamplelune, eat your heart out.
And Sparkle is off the hook.
Then, one morning I walk in the living room and am hit by that smell.
Cat piss.
Brow furrowed and nostrils aflare, I start sniffing the chair, the ottoman, the sofa. No, that's not it. A minute later, I can't detect it. Hours later as my daughter walks in the back door, she hollers, "Ma, don't you clean the cat box?"
"So, you smell it too."
Long story less long, I had ordered two boxes of citrus from my high school's music dept.—anything to send bass players out of town!—tangelos, and, yes, grapefruit. I didn't smell it a week ago, and I don't smell it today, but somewhere in its life cycle the grapefruit will indeed smell of cat pee, and oh, it has sillage (I was in the living room, the grapefruits were in the kitchen). Pamplelune, eat your heart out.
And Sparkle is off the hook.
