Smells Like Negative Energy (or, "This is Your Life, Olivia")

My cat is notorious for peeing on the carpet. One corner of our dining room is labeled as the Death Zone, and it reeks of urine even though Taffy hasn't peed there in at least a year.

Her latest venture has been to urinate on the floor right next to her litter box. It might be bad aim, it might be old age (although she's really not that old), but I believe it is done out of sheer spite. Years ago we got another cat, and even though he died (as did the next cat we got), Taffy has never forgiven us.

In this household we have come to know this smell as a part of us. It's rank and officious, but we haven't quite reached the point of cat eviction. Yet. So since we're used to it, you may ask why it matters. Here's the dilemma: my grandma is coming to visit at the start of next week. We always convert our study into a guest room for her, since it doesn't require that she climb any stairs and it's one of the least-used rooms in our house. However, Taffy's litter box has been in the study for quite some time, and the carpet around it stinks. The entire house stinks. Needless to say, we can't put my grandma in the Pee Room.

Cue the events of this morning, which I fondly refer to as Women vs. Urine. It's just like the Discovery Channel's hit series Man vs. Wild, except the vast tundra of pee-soaked carpet in our study is incalculably more dangerous than any remote jungle or swampland that Bear Grylls might encounter. That, and my mom and I are unfortunately not an attractive man.

Our mission for today was to try one last time to make our house smell like normal people live here. Naturally, for me and my mother that means ripping up a corner of the carpet, cutting out the turquoise padding underneath, and literally drenching the floor with odor-remover. It was this whole big thing. We ran out of the chemicals and my mom had to run to the store for more. We noticed that the tack strip along one wall was stained, so my mom pried it up with a screwdriver ("Mom, you're digging a hole in the floor!" "I don't care!"). I had to cover my nose and mouth with a towel so I wouldn't die of chemical inhalation. I sprayed liquid the color of a pina colada onto the carpet for so long that I was physically incapable of spraying anymore. We opened the front door to air out the house even though it's freezing outside, but since Taffy isn't allowed outside we had to block the doorway with my mom's green inflatable exercise ball. We propped the carpet against an empty laundry basket and started a fan to circulate the air. Now whenever I walk into the room it smells like cat pee and flowers. My mom has been saying for a few days that she wants to repaint one of the study walls because it looks grungy. I told her this would be the perfect time because the smell of paint would cover up the other offensive odors. That, or the room would reek of urine, flowers, and acrylic latex.

This is our second bottle. And it was full when we started.

The study: site of Peepocalypse 2010. Note the oscillating fan on the chair.

Our ingenious cat-keeper-inner. We're classy over here.

All the while Taffy has been upstairs sleeping. I have tried to discuss the matter with her, but I don't think any words sum it up better than my mother's: "Taffy, you have created a really negative situation in this household. Can you feel that negative energy, Taff? Can you smell it?"

The little stinker helping herself to my clean laundry.

Me: This is not our day!
Mom: We're makin' lemonade, Liv.
Me: Out of cat pee?
Mom: Yes. Out of cat pee.

------UPDATE------

It is three hours later and the smell is not gone. In fact, it appears to be worse, if that's even possible. So my mom and I just did what we should have done in the first place.


That's right. We ripped up the carpet. And, I'll have you know, I was unfairly designated the "pee-sniffer" and had to get on my hands and knees to determine if we missed eradicating any crucial sections. When I asked my mom why I had to be the one crawling around on the floor with my nose in urine, her reply was simple: "Because this is your life, Olivia. Love it." Oh I do, Mom. I really do.