we were having kind of an awful night thursday night, for some reason. i had taken the kids to the Y and upon our arrival home, oliver spent most of his time in time out. it was just one of those nights where nothing was going right. i'm not even sure exactly what was wrong, but it kind of sucked. and then, as i was sitting gingerly on the commode in our bathroom, brian knocked on the door wanting me to take the baby because there was "an emergency situation." i was intrigued.
it turned out, juana shit on the couch.
she just walked on over there and took a big, old dump right on the fucking couch.
and a juana turd is not a thing like a ttyki turd, which is so hard and dry, someone like brian could refuse to ever check his chair before sitting down for dinner and sit right on one for awhile and stand up again and have his pants look like nothing ever happened to them. which is also what happened on thursday night, by the way.
so this big, stinky, wet, gooey juana shit was right there on the goddamn couch and it was like a (possibly red) big shit cherry right on top of our sundae. after cleaning it up and as we were putting children away in their cubbies for the night, brian began to decompress and laugh maniacally. because juana had strolled on over there and taken a big, disgusting shit right on top of the couch.
i thought, perhaps, that was why she was trying to break into our bedroom, after initially thinking she and ozzy just wanted in there to steal food. i think there had been some activity going on in the other bathroom for a while and i hypothesized that she just needed to take a dump and didn't feel she had access to anywhere else. NOT THAT THAT IS ANY KIND OF AN EXCUSE, MIND YOU.
but then. THEN. i walk out from our bedroom this morning and brian says first thing, "juana took a big, fucking, goddamned, disgusting, gooey, revolting shit all over our fucking couch." i paraphrase. we have to now wonder if the switch from two litterboxes to one, new litterbox has juana's panties in a wad and brian is talking of tarping the couch and locking her up every time we leave, which will mean pulling back one of the old boxes and having one sitting IN THE DINING AREA.
and now we're like great that there is exactly what we need. it is not enough to have ttyki shitting EVERYWHERE and indiscriminately peeing outside the shower when the mood strikes and oskar having stinky shit that is at least in the litterbox these days and juana getting in the litter box and then shitting her nasty diarrhea down the edge of the box and on to the floor and every last one of these four cats just a-vomiting away like it's for sport (LIKE OZZY DID ON THE COUCH LAST WEEK).
i am this close to just opening the door for a couple of hours and seeing what happens.
but i didn't come here to talk about shit.
immediately after violet's final pass out thursday night, she emitted a quick series of four or five tiny, baby farts. they were small, tidy, and concise. they gave me a visual of tea pearls and sounded like fireworks exploding in a distant sky. i don't know, it was the cutest thing ever.
on the way home from the Y, i took the long way home. oliver began jibber jabbering at an accelerated rate, as three year olds tend to do. he started telling me, "i have two fans in my shoes. they make me comfortable. they keep me fresh." there were many amusing turns of phrase in his diatribe, but those sum up the main feeling. he talked quite a bit about the fans in his shoes. he mentioned them again just now. he says he guesses he'll turn them on today.