Hamm On Wry

You won’t find a more cunning fluffball on the face of the planet. Evil and calculating, Agent Orange has valiantly fought an ongoing crusade to destoy a patch of carpet at the upper landing in order to claim ownership of what will become, to the best of my knowledge, a prefecture of North Korea.

I’ve borrowed mom’s carpet cleaner to remove the stain and return balance to the universe. I had to use Oxyclean, which works fine but causes me to spend the next several hours yelling out introductions of everything in my best Billy Mays voice. The cat isn’t amused.

While cleaning, the cat attempted to trip me by sneaking underfoot, causing me to fall backwards in the attempt to avoid making squishkitty. It was a great plan, and would have killed me if I’d been at the top of the stairs instead of in one of the bedrooms to better clean the carpet. I looked at the cat and got the distinct impression that if she could talk, she’d say something evil and twirl her whiskers ala Snidely Whiplash.

After a good scrubbing with Oxyclean the stain still reeked a bit and a friend suggested that I try white vinegar. I didn’t want to, really, as the scent of white vinegar is just as bad as cat piss. I had no choice tho. I’m not sure how, but I’m almost positive that the cat is sneaking chemicals into the house, consuming them and using the powers of the occult to conjure up a noxious spray that could remove the paint off the space shuttle as it orbits overhead in space. That stench couldn’t stay, so I tried it. Amazingly the vinegar seems to have removed a good portion of the smell, and another quick wash with Oxyclean and the carpet was back to fresh-n-clean.

After cleaning I left the machine at the top of the landing because I’m both lazy and practical. I knew the game wasn’t over, so why haul the machine down only to haul it back up immediately? AO took the placement of the machine to be the creation of a DMZ and therefore an escalation of the ongoing arms situation.

Oh yes, this is going to end well.

Agent Orange seemed to have recieved new orders and some new chemicals, and that night her counter-attack took place. The bigger problem is that the initial dispersal isn’t nearly as bad as what becomes of the whole area about 12 hours after the attack. Even the dogs, who will gladly lick the garbage and anything else normally considered gross, had darted by the stain without breathing. Well, Shadow has learned that breathing there is a bad idea, as she only did it once, and then retched so badly I thought she was going to toss up her own hind end.

Agent Orange had won most of the rounds up till this, but I’d had enough of going to sleep with a clean carpet only to wake up to a permeating stench attempting to melt the television while simultaneously attempting to choke me out. But what to do? Oh Billy Mays, help me with your cleaning powers!

And then I had a wild idea. A Fucking Brilliant Plan™, even. You see, Oxyclean is a powder that, when mixed with water, fizzes up and cleans stains. It’s the cleaning equivalent of Alka-seltzer. Or may Poprocks. (Anyone remember Poprocks?)

I cleaned the carpet again, and have run out of vinegar, so I just did the water pass then Oxy pass then water again and put the cleaner machine back as the sentry of the DMZ.

And then, I set a trap.

I sprinkled some of the dry crystals of Oxy on the area AO was most likely to hit that night.

Then I went to sleep.

Around 3:15 am I heard Agent Orange bound into the bedroom and jump onto the bed. (Yes, perhaps the funniest part of this us the cat’s need to be loved and protected by me while also continuing this war.)

I got up to check, and sure enough there was a small wet spot in the middle of the crystal-covered carpet. I think baking soda will work as well, and it seems that the chemical warfare stage of our battle is over.

Because now she sneaks up on me and bites my toe.

In my ongoing war with the animals, I’m currently under siege by the cutest, sleekest, dumbest dog you’ve ever met. Here’s her picture:

I would like to point out that I had nothing to do with her name. Her name is Shadow. Shadow IX or XIV or something. Why? Because the Algards have always had a black lab, and that lab is always named Shadow. I don’t know why they do this, but I suspect it’s smarter than trying to remember the name of the damn dog that you have, as, if my parents are any guide, remembering the name of your kids isn’t as easy as it would seem.

This particular Shadow is just a lovebug who wants to do nothing more than snuggle with you and perhaps help you to finish that rather large bit of food that you have in front of you and OH MY GOD PLEASE FOOD! I’ve never seen a bouncy lab before, aside from the one time I set the tables on fire in chemistry, but that’s a different type of lab and no one died. Honest.

This dog bounces. In fact, the back door is covered in nose marks where she’s bounced up and come down in the hopes that magically while bouncing the door has become ethereal and will let her pass. It’s quite funny to watch. It’s also slightly disturbing that she abuses her nose in this manner. It leads her from room to room, and seems to inform her every other move as well.

When I first started house-sitting, I was unused to the space, not ready for the odd noises of the house and how it reacts to the weather outside, and on and on. And I’m a nut for turning off lights. I don’t want extra lights on, and will walk through the dark to avoid turning them on if I’m unsure that at my destination there will be a switch for turning it off. This doesn’t square too well with the fact that I can freak myself out in full sunlight and have an overactive imagination that can summon zombies, wolfmen and high-school principals into any darkened room. To be clear, I’m not scared of the dark, I’m scared of what’s lurking inside it.

I was turning off the lights the first weekend I was in the house and had managed to darken my entire path, and, unbeknownst to me, I had a curious Shadow following close behind. Something made a sound I didn’t recognize, so I stopped, hoping to hear it again and identify it as nothing to worry about.

My Shadow didn’t stop. In fact, her very cold nose impacted with the back of my thigh, which then caused my vocal chords to contact a very high pitch while simultaneously my body elevated quickly to the point of nearly bouncing my head off the ceiling. Yes, I squealed and jumped. I’d say like a little girl, but I’m pretty sure that any little girl would have come off as more manly than I did at that particular moment.

Make no mistake, the dog remembers this, and has attempted to repeat the very entertaining “Levitating the Fat Man Who Squeals” event. She’s succeeded one night at 3 am when, as I was a bit warm and had exposed some of my tender flesh to the open night air, she snuck up and pressed her nose to my left butt-cheek. I jumped so far and fast that I was on the floor of the other side of the bed before I knew what was going on, and the dog just looked at me, as if she should have a lab coat and a clipboard while mumbling “Very interestink,” in a subtle German accent.

Today has been filled with this dog deciding to be all up in my business. Literally up in it. I was trying to have breakfast and she got underfoot and nearly caused me to cover the kitchen in cereal. When I returned home tonight, she wouldn’t spend more than 27 seconds away from me, which really made cooking a very tedious affair.

And then, I decided I needed a shower. So I started up the water, stripped down and was bouncing about as I had to do some laundry as well. The dog was following me, but not so close that it was a big deal. Or so I thought.

I stopped to check my teeth in the mirror before hopping in the shower, and, I swear, Shadow managed to sneak up behind me and pushed her icy cold, wet nose against my butt again.

I hope I get frequent flyer miles for all this time I’m spending in the air.

So yesterday was my birthday, and I got to go see Eddie Izzard perform live at the United Center in Chicago. It was brilliant. I don’t have much to say other than you have to go see him live, it can’t be beat.

Here’s the one souvenir I got, as I’m totally not the souvenir gathering type:

I’m going to savor every drop that I consume via this mug because as anyone who knows me knows, before noon I’m always out of cake!

And here’s a quick bit to wet your whistle:
Eddie Izzard at the United Center

You might be interested to know that I’ve once again been working with the Carroll College Fighting Saints Athletics on the Saints Wrap-Up show, and on the state-wide broadcasts of their playoff games. I love it! I’ve never been athletic, nor do I always understand what is going on with every call, but it’s fun to watch and the students are all amazing. I get to watch the games from the sidelines and from the media boxes, and the sidelines, no matter how cold, rule. Here’s some of my favorite pics from the game this week: