We've Been Robbed!

Those who've been around here awhile know that I'm a bit of a clutter hound.  Hence the moniker, "Cat Lady Without Cats".  I haven't reached epic hoarder proportions, but I've come close a few times in my life.  So, when I turned on the television this week to watch The Middle, it was like they were filming my life.

The episode opened with the beleaguered Heck family crammed in the car while "enjoying" a spring break family road trip.  Frankie Heck's cell phone rings and it's the neighbor, telling them they've been robbed!  Horrors!  Immediate change of plans!  "Go directly home, do not pass go, do not collect $200!"

They burst into their home, where the neighbor explains how she arrived to take their mail in for them and saw the chaos left by the robbers.  Shocked faces on all the Hecks!

But wait... their eyes begin to shift back and forth toward each other.  The neighbor is thanked profusely and ushered out the door.

Nothing is missing!  The house is exactly as they left it!

Ridiculous premise, you say?  Not so!

Been there, done that!

Twenty five years ago, we had just moved into our house and were in the process of fixing the place up.  The living room was filled with ladders, tools, the odd beer can here and there, papers covering the floors.  Our temporary "lounge" on the second floor consisted of a futon on the floor, a television, more discarded newspapers, and pop cans.

One day after work, we came home to find a side window smashed in and the back door open.  Two policemen responded to our call for help.  As they walked through the house, inspecting the premises for signs of illicit entry, one of the officers asked...

"So, they toss the place about a bit?"

Dead silence.

Yeaaahhhhh.... the burglars did this to our house!  That's what happened.  On the bright side, nothing much was taken, probably because the burglars couldn't find anything.

So, I can relate perfectly to the Heck Family.  They're my kind of people. 

"So... They Toss the Place About a Bit?"

I've always been a bit of a clutter hound.  It hasn't gotten bad enough yet to win me a guest appearance on "Hoarders" but some days I look around and think that day won't be far off.   It's one of my signature cat lady characteristics.  (Minus the cats, of course.)

My house has looked this way, pretty much since we moved in.  In fact, shortly after we bought the house, we had a break-in while we were at work.  The thieves only stole some spare change out of the bedside stand.  I think they were probably having a hard time finding anything else of value in all the clutter.  Living with clutter is a great way to stymie thieves.   

 (Sorry Blair whoever you are... this picture was just too perfect... I had to use it.)

Anyway, the police came and looked around the house to file their report.  At one point, one of the officers looked back and forth and said, "So... they toss the place about a bit?"

Uh... yeaaahhhh...  THAT's what happened!  We would never leave our home this messy otherwise!  Geesh!  You'd think that would be a wake up call!   But, no.  We were undeterred in our quest for clutter supremacy.

Now, I chose my spouse precisely because he came from a home where clutter was king.  Let's just say his father was a bit "eccentric" and collected stuff.  He had his own set up for collecting, including a step stool stored in the trunk of his car, a trouble light, and some of those extending grabber things to extract stuff from dumpsters.  (I think he may have been the original dumpster diver.)

You name it, they had it... from old grocery store display racks, to a dentist's chair, to the entire phone system that was discarded from a local hospital.  They even built a warehouse out behind their house to store all the stuff that overflowed the house.  At one point, my in out-laws didn't sleep in their bed for four years because there wasn't enough room to get to it.  Seriously!  My father-out-law, bless his heart, has slept in a recliner for the past 25 years!

Later on, my spouse had some sort of a religious awakening or something and suddenly became a neat freak... on his own side of the room.  Suddenly, I was the sole cause of the chaos.  (He's also the one who turned me on to Dr Pepper and then later chastised me for becoming a Pepper fiend.)  From that day on, our marriage was doomed.  Well, that and a few other things led to its demise. 

But, you know... it did my heart some good when my son came home giggling the other day because he noticed his dad's new wife throws her crap all over on her side of the bed.  Poetic justice at its finest!

(Oh, yeah... they're keeping a special place for me in hell!)

Cluttered Times

So, I was over at Steamy's blog this morning and noticed some interesting newspaper articles. Imagine my surprise when I began reading this particular article, which sounded strangely familiar.  

It was only last week that I was contemplating having a garage sale with a friend to raise cash for food, what with being unemployed and all.  Perhaps I should rethink that.  Not that I shouldn't sell some of my crap... I should just be a little more thoughtful about it.  Although, I do hear that you can get a pretty good price on the black market for certain items in my Connoisseur's Collection of Crap. 

I just won't invite the neighborhood kids over to play on Garage Sale Day.

Ax Man... for the "Connoisseur of Crap"

One of the hallmarks of cat ladies is their propensity to have rather cluttered homes. Most people wonder how one person can amass so much crap. I always use the excuse that it's because my parents grew up during The Depression, when people saved everything. Nothing went to waste, whether it be food, clothing, string, tin foil or other weird shit. As a child, I was constantly admonished to "clean up my plate" because of the poor, starving children in other obscure parts of the world and because I didn't appreciate what it was like to grow up in The Depression when food was scarce. Like all self respecting children, I offered to box up the lima beans and liver and send them off to those poor, starving children (because I'm generous like that.) And like all children who offer that suggestion, I sat at the table until the lima beans and liver were finally choked down. (To this day, food that enters my home is not discarded until long after it's utility as a science experiment has been thoroughly exhausted.)

Little, if anything, was ever thrown out around our house... for example, clothes that were too small were handed down to the younger siblings, regardless of gender. (I think my brother looked very fetching in the dresses we gave him.) So I learned to save everything. My house is packed to the rafters with clothes I will never wear again and furniture I might need "someday". Vlad's baby clothes will certainly still be in style when (and if) he ever has children and he'll need the old towels and linens for his first apartment.

And then I became a teacher... where there are always dioramas to be made, submarines and spaceships to fashion out of cardboard and holiday gifts to make for parents. Plus, there's the equipment for assorted science experiments as well as costumes and props for plays. Which, of course, necessitate a variety of weird "stuff".

Now, anyone can accumulate a variety of weird "stuff" through daily living. But if you want to become a "connoisseur of crap" like me, you must go to Ax Man.


My sister introduced us to Ax Man when we visited her in Minneapolis. Talk about a place to "discover the useful and unique!" This is it! It's chock full of all sorts of "stuff". Need a gas mask? A weather balloon? An iron lung? A haz-mat suit? They've got it. (Although, they say the iron lung is not actually for sale, which is very disappointing as it would have made a great "time out" space for recalcitrant children.) They even have stylish displays of creative ways to use the "stuff". But you have to look in all the nooks and crannies to find the real treasures...

(Actual picture of the interior of Ax Man.)

Trips to Ax Man became a requirement of all future visits to the Twin Cities. Half of my dinnerware came from Ax Man... leftover plastic dishes and trays from the days when airlines still served food. (I know... ancient history.)


And how about this gem...

It's not everyone who can pull the glass from stop lights out of her attic. As they say... you never know when a stop light might come in handy... like in pretend space ships.

Then there are the kazillion film canisters... great for alka-seltzer rockets.

Terrarium globes... perfect for the portholes in cardboard submarines.

Assorted colored wires, casters, the balls from inside a computer mouse, bright yellow haz-mat-banana-hats, caution tape, body parts from mannequins, wooden bowling pins, disembodied doll heads, wooden shoe lasts.... the list goes on and on.

You can see where I'm going with this, can't you? I have to keep all this stuff. It's just far too cool to throw out. Although, I confess, with all the crap in my attic and basement it does become a bit tricky to locate a particular item at any given moment. But that's beside the point. The important thing is to keep everything! Because....

"You never know when you might need it."

And hence, a cat lady is born.

Rebranding the Crazy Cat Lady!

Last week the San Francisco Chronicle ran an article entitled Rebranding the Crazy Cat Lady. Apparently, the folks over at Tidy Cats are trying to improve the image of cat owners. Seems that the predominant public perception is that people who have more than one cat are Crazy Cat Ladies. And for some strange reason, people are not happy with that designation. Go figure!

"...heading up multiple cat households is a way of life for millions of Americans who aren't happy about the negative stereotyping."

They went on to say:

"The majority of non-cat owners who responded described people with more than one cat as being a homebody (75%), lonely (69%) or, that old zinger, a "crazy cat lady" (58%). They also described multiple cat owners' homes as smelly (75%), having furniture and bedding covered in cat hair (85%) and being cluttered (66%)."

(Take away the cats and you have me.

Note pajamas & comfortable chair.
The books on the shelves are way too tidy, though.)

But what about this sweet Russian lady:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bp0Q3UJHrkU&feature=related#watch-main-area

Her neighbors don't complain about her at all... at least not very much. And she has 130 cats.

Anyway, they're having a contest to find people with multiple cats who don't fit the stereotype. They want people to write in and tell them how perfectly normal they are and list all the fun 

activities they do with their cats. They want to "redefine what it means to be a (well-adjusted) "cat lady" (or lad)."

That's all fine and good, but what about those of us who don't have cats? Why can't we enter the contest? Don't we have an image to maintain as well? Can't we be well-adjusted, too?

Not everyone was born to have a pristine house and lots of social events to attend on a regular basis. Some of us were meant to be reclusive and untidy, regardless of pet ownership. All I'm asking for is a little patience, understanding and equality here! Because I look like a Crazy Cat Lady doesn't mean I want any actual cats... I'm a dog person. So why can't I enter the contest? It's just not fair!

Or, maybe it's just time to Rebrand the Cat Lady? Stay posted!

It Ain't Over 'Til the Cat Lady Cleans

For those of you thinking I'll just be lounging around all summer now that I'm unemployed...

Think again!

Yes, there will be lots of time for relaxation.  But there's also the small matter of this quote from Vladimir:

"So, now that you'll be home every day,

you'll have time to clean the house."

Say, WHAT?  Are you freakin' kidding me?  This from the lad who still has his crap from college crammed in his car?  The lad who feels he needs a clean glass for each sip of water he takes, leaving a pile of dishes on the counter for me?  The lad whose room you can't enter because there's no place to put your feet?  Just because he's gainfully employed doesn't give him the right to get all sanctimonious about it!

But wait!  Actually, I can't complain... because I taught him everything he knows.  Makes a Cat Lady so proud!  Clutter is a requirement of all Cat Ladies, after all.   However, there comes a time when even the Cat Lady Cleans out of necessity.  

Around every school break, I tell everyone I'm actually going to clean my house. And fail miserably in achieving that goal.  That's because first I have to take care of the clutter.  I couldn't even get a vacuum cleaner into the room, let alone suck up all the dirt until the clutter's gone.  For example, here's what my sun room currently looks like, following the removal of all the crap from my office at school:

At least there's still a small spot left for me to step into the room.  (Note visibility of rug just in front of chair.)  I actually did vacuum that wee spot the other day... only to get the crumbs up off the floor so that I could walk to my recliner barefoot without being punctured by the hard, sharp little pieces of leftover doggy biscuit.

Sadly, the same can not be said for the area around my desk... which is why laptops were invented and why I always sit in my recliner to write.  

We have, however, reached emergency conditions as I can no longer recline in the recliner because of all the crap around it.

So... the first few days of my unemployment, I'll be spending at least a few minutes each day uncluttering the place.

Which should make Vladimir very happy.  As well as Hickory the Wonder Dog, since he'll once again be able to sit at my feet and look up at me adoringly.  (As he asks for another doggy biscuit.)

The only question remains... where do I shovel all this crap to next?  The attic and basement are already packed and my charming home only sports three small closets with a combined space of about 6 cubic feet. (And you can't even get to the closets if you wanted to because of additional crap blocking the doors to them.)

Maybe I could rent one of those portable storage containers next....

Time for the Yearly Obligatory Inspection

So I got a courtesy call from my mechanic this week to let me know it was time for my annual inspection.  My car inspection, that is... I got my personal inspection last week at the gynecologist's.  Each year I wonder why you have to keep going to the gynecologist after you've had a hysterectomy... it's not like that sucker's gonna grow back or anything, so what are they looking for in there anyway?!

But, back to the topic at hand...

Vlad's car is also in my name, as insurance premiums tend to go up exponentially when a car is registered to a young male.  And it was time for his car to be inspected as well.  I decided to take his car in one day and mine the next.  (Vlad actually had to be at work before the shop opened, so it was up to me to make the morning delivery of combined auto parts that were still connected.)  I went out to get into his fine automobile, only to discover he had not yet unpacked it since he arrived home from college six weeks ago.  Including his dorm refrigerator.  With the door still attached and tightly sealed.  

Danger!  Danger, Will Robinson!

It's not like I expected the neighbor kids to break into his car, pry the mini fridge out from the other crap, squeeze their little bodies into it and await suffocation.  Rather, I was imagining the potential contents of said mini refrigerator bubbling and churning as they begin to rot and emit gasses within such a tiny, hermetically sealed space that was getting hotter and hotter in the summer sun.  God knows what all he's been keeping in there... including most likely the remnants of the last meal he made for himself at school, which happened to be fish.  I know this because he told me how proud he was of preparing this delectable taste treat... in fact he was so proud, he even took a picture of it.  

While I feel good that my child has learned how to fend for himself, there are a few things he has yet to learn.  Not wanting Jim and the rest of the folks at The Wire Wheel to think I was a total clod or anything, I walked into the office to drop off the keys and immediately beat them to the punch by telling them all about the refrigerator and other assorted crap before they could take a look at it and condemn me for being a terrible parent who raised a bozo who would leave a refrigerator in a car for six weeks in the summer.  We all had a good laugh over that.  As long as it didn't explode while they were working on the car, they didn't give a shit.  It was all good. 

So, the next day I went to take my car in, failing to realize that I had not yet unpacked all the crap from my camping trip last weekend.  Opening the back door to grab my brief case, I notice that not only is there firewood still in the back seat, there's a little bottle of propane strategically located beneath the wood.  Just ready for a little summer heat!  Boy, do I feel like a royal ass!  How do I explain that one? Actually I don't.  I just hope Jim and the guys don't notice!  

At last report, Vlad's car has yet to be unpacked, but at least my propane tank is now stored in a cool, dry place.   Look at the bright side... the mini propane tank could have been in the mini fridge.  Vlad and I are known for blowing things up, after all!

Guess we both just like living life on the edge!

And I Thought I Was a Slob...

Today on Twitter, Rachel Maddow posted a link to a site that lists all the crap that's been left on the moon by NASA. And I thought I was a slob!

Check it out:

http://spacegrant.nmsu.edu/lunarlegacies/artifactlist.html

I mean, really! I can see them leaving an American flag on the moon... just to prove to detractors and conspiracy theorists that man really did land on the moon. I may be a slob, but even I know you're not supposed to leave your junk around when you visit somebody else's house.

Anyway, here are some of the things that got left behind...

• Number 18 on the list is "scongs". WTF is a scong? (If anyone can tell me, I'll personally give you credit in my next blog posting.)

• Number 33: Defecation collection device. Talk about a worthless piece of shit!
• Number 50: Urine collection assembly, small (2)
• Number 51: Urine collection assembly, large (2) Okaaay! So which one would you request, large or small? Is it better to get two small collection bags or one big one? How are they allocated... by how you frame your request? Which of these people do you think would get the large collection assembly:

"Excuse me, but I believe I have to urinate.

Would you be so kind as to direct me to the water closet?"

vs.

"Holy Shit! Do I ever have to take a piss! Where's the head?"

• Number 60: Central Station As in Grand Central Station? No wonder people are wandering around NYC looking lost all the time.
  
• Number 64: Gnomon (includes mount) Is this like a little statue of a gnome riding a horse?
  
• Number 78: Footprint Just one? Sure looks like a lot more in the photo below... but maybe that's just part of the whole conspiracy! Besides, can a footprint even be considered something you "left"? I'm thinking a list of things that were left should include actual objects.
  
• Number 81: Plastic covering for Flag (1) So, does it rain on the moon? Did they leave the covering on the flag, or is it just lying there, waiting for someone to come back and use it to protect the stars & stripes forever?
  

• 
  

What I want to know is...

What would Neil Armstrong's mother

say about all this? 

She obviously didn't bring him up very well!

(BTW... I distinctly remember staying up really late, into the wee hours of the morning, to watch the moon landing on television. The astronauts were late... very late. Just like everyone usually is to an appointment watched by millions.)

10 easy steps for becoming a crazy cat lady (without the cats)

In taking a step back to review my life as the New Year approaches, I find that I have become a crazy cat lady... without the cats.  How does this happen?  Let me enlighten you...

10 EASY STEPS TO BECOMING A CRAZY CAT LADY.... 

1.  Stop doing your dishes.... there's really no reason to do dishes until you have nothing left to eat off of.  Then you can simply polish up a fork with a your shirt tail.

2.  Always drop things on the floor when you enter your home.  Why use up extra energy to locate where the things actually belong?  Being a cat lady is all about conserving energy. Besides, that way you'll always know where everything is... in the pile just inside the door.

3.  Don't make your bed... you're just getting back into it the next night anyway.

4.  Don't bathe too often... it allows the natural oils on your skin to maintain that youthful glow.

5.  Never, ever vacuum... all the pet hair on the floor and furniture actually adds to the insulation value of your home.

6.  Don't go outside unless it's really necessary.  (For instance, like if the house catches fire.)  This keeps the warm air inside during the winter months, saving on utilities. 

7.   Don't answer the phone.  It's usually just someone who either wants to complain about something or who wants your money for some obscure reason.  Be sure you have special ring tones for individual friends you MIGHT want to talk to.  Limit yourself to three ring tones... saves on having too many people who actually know who you are.  A special ring tone for family members is especially important.  They may want to try to save you from being a crazy cat lady, so it's best to avoid them.

8.  Watch LOTS of TV.  The more senseless the program the better.  Talk shows are particularly useful for building your self esteem.  (They demonstrate how many people are crazier than you are.)  Remember, no matter how many other bills go unpaid... always keep the cable bill paid up... there are so many more possibilities for trash TV on cable than there are on regular TV.  (Although, I would also suggest paying the electric bill so you have the juice for running the TV.)

9.  Talk to yourself frequently... remember, you are your own best friend. 

10.  Always remember... there's absolutely no reason to actually have cats... simple black construction paper silhouettes in the windows will do just fine.  Much better to have a dog who will bark at strangers who try to come to the door to extricate you from your abode.  Plus, the dog is always glad to see you... cats could care less.

So there you have it... even if you maintain the facade of being a normal person in public, you too can become a crazy cat lady at home.  No one ever has to know... which makes you an even crazier cat lady than the usual one.  

Best wishes for a healthy and happy New Year!