Wednesday, 20 October 2010

Did I Ever Tell You About The Time....

I made the 'Guiness Book of World Records' for shortest grandparent visit in the history of the world?

(Remember that one post in September where I told you to remind me of that really disastrous visit that my grandparents paid to my apartment? Oh, you don't? YOU MEAN YOUR LIVES DON'T REVOLVE AROUND MY BLOG?! Fine then. But here's the story anyhow.)

Right before moving to Switzerland I had some larger furniture items I wanted to sell because it wouldn't be cost effective moving something over there that we could replace for a cheaper price. I heard it through the family grapevine that my Bup and Nan wanted a new couch. Perfect! I would give them my loveseat and sofa, they would be able to save their money, and I would be rid of the beasts so creepy Craigslist people would finally stop emailing me.

Here are the old darlings.
They were the very first 'grown-up' furniture items Dan and I ever owned.

So I arranged that one day I would meet Bup and Nan at my apartment during the lunch break so they could take a look at the goods I was offering.

Now let me paint a picture of my grandparents for you: they are the best people in the world.  That's what you need to know. My Bup is gentle and my Nan (hi Nan!) is a little firecracker. They are the perfect balance.

Here's Bup and Nan last Christmas.
You also need to know, one of them is always blinking in photos.

So the day I invited Bup and Nan over, I opened my apartment door and things immediately started to go down hill; as we all stepped into the apartment, little Cosmo hopped out from the storage room where we kept the litter pan. As he raced away from the scene of the crime, a very pungent and indelicate odour climbed up our nostrils.

My Nan tried to discreetly cover her nose.

"Oh my goodness! That's so gross," I fumbled, as I grabbed a bottle of spring meadows Febreeze and started gassing the general vicinity of my grandparents. "Really sorry about that. The smell will go away in a sec...the litter we buy is awesome...but you can't help the immediate's kind of like when someone just walks out of the know what they say, everyone poops. Hahaha..." Just shut-up Caitie! Stop talking! "If only we'd come in three minutes later..." Just be quiet!

So my Bup tells me that he actually does need to use the washroom, so off he goes and Nan and I walk through the kitchen to the living room.  As we go through the kitchen I become very aware of the fact that my dish washing system really isn't a respectable system, and I probably should have cleaned up the kitchen last night instead of watching Teen Mom; there are loads of dirty dishes piled in the sink, and my dishwasher is full of clean dishes.  Since at this point Dan had already been gone for six months, I'd gotten in the habit of doing a dishwasher cycle, then just using the clean dishes right out of the dishwasher and letting the dirty ones pile into the sink, until the dishwasher was empty and the sink was full.

Clearly I am lazy.

So to protect my Nan from seeing the Leaning Tower of Dirty Dishes, I tried to shimmy my way across the kitchen and use my body as shield, but there really is no way to hide slothful living.

Once we were in the living room I tried directing Nan's attention to the couch and loveseat by marvelling at how great they were, when really all her focus directed into examining an old beat-up green leather chair I inherited from my parents.

(And fine, it wasn't beat-up when we first got it.)

"Caitie, are you aware there's a hole in this chair? All the stuffing is spilling out."

Oh God.

"Ah, yeah....I know it's terrible.  Cosmo has sort of been picking away at the hole for awhile now.  I've tried to get him to stop. I've really tried! Nothing works, he's the most stubborn cat in the world! But I think he mostly picks at this while I'm at work. I'm really quite careful with my other things. I promise! I mean, just look at the couch and loveseat. Aren't they so FAB!" I cheerfully tried to turn Nan's attention to the couch, while my voice cracked like some nervous teenage boy.

So my sweet Nan does a thorough inspection of the couch.

"Well, there is quite a lot of cat hair on it."

"Is there really? Are you sure? I just vacuumed it last night..."

My words die on my lips as I inspected the couch and realized that last night's vacuum job is now irrelevant because perma-shedding Poppy had obviously been rolling around on the couch all morning, shedding her clothes like some floozy.

I thought I'd been a better mom than that? Didn't I teach her better morals?

I grabbed a sticky roller and pathetically started trying to pick up the stubborn white barbs of hair while telling my Nan that I just want her to have the couch for free and I would really deliver it in tip-top condition. Then my Bup comes out of the bathroom and tells me most seriously, in his rancher dialect:

"Cait. One of your cats has had a wreck in the bathroom."


I go into the bathroom and I'm horrified at what I see: projectile vomit everywhere. All over the walls, all over the white bath mat, and even in the tub.

Oh Lord! Why are you punishing me? Why are all these things happening at once?

Cosmo and his sensitive little stomach are definitely the culprits behind this grotesque mess. As my bathroom had clearly NOT looked like that when I left for work in the morning, I figured that once again he behaved like a little pig at breakfast and wolfed down his meal then Poppy's; by the time I'd left for work his bulging insides obviously couldn't handle all that nutrition so he'd spewed it everywhere.

I lamely tried to assure Bup and Nan that my bathroom had been quite clean when I'd left in the morning, and I just had to find my lone bottle of Seventh Generation all purpose cleaner and I'd have that mess cleaned up in no time. So then I started frantically hunting for the cleaner, but I couldn't find it anywhere.

"This is so weird, I wonder where that cleaning detergent went? I was just using it last night..."

I wasn't.

So my Nan tries to be helpful, "Well dear, don't you keep all your cleaning supplies together in one place? Like under the kitchen sink? Or maybe in your storage room?"

"Ahh...right, yes. I definitely do that. Most definitely."

As I hunted for that damn Seventh Generation, I began to panic. I was searching for that bottle as if my life depended on it, because I had to prove that I did honestly own cleaning supplies. That my mama did done raise me right!

When I located it I let out a joyous whoop that one probably only uses for major life events like sinking a hole in one, or rushing out to the hospital waiting room to tell everyone the baby's here. The whoop I used was certainly a bit dramatic for finding a bottle of cleaning detergent. But I proudly peacocked that bottle in front of my grandparents as I headed into the bathroom to clean up Cosmo's mess, while shouting cheerful conversation to Bup and Nan.

Maybe if I'm super upbeat, they won't notice what a disaster I am.

But it was no use, because I was then let down by the one cat I thought would never let me down.

As I scrubbed the puke from the floor and rinsed out the bath mat, I looked into the living room just in time to see Poppy (who had been racing around the apartment this entire time, overjoyed by the fact I was home) take a flying leap at the green chair, sink her claws into the leather, and then start to slip.



Poppy stopped slipping, regained her footing, then started determinedly (one paw in front of the other) scaling that delicate leather chair like a rock climber purposefully scales a cliff.

My Nan stood motionless watching Poppy rip up the chair and my Bup turned away from the sight while rubbing his eyes and proclaiming, "Jesus Christ Caitie!"

What more was I to do?

"She never does that! Never."

I promise you, she really doesn't. She is the 'good' one.

I stood in the puke destroyed bathroom, caught whiffs of festering spring meadows wafting through the halls, couldn't help but see a kitchen that appeared a bit nuclear, and looked at the green chair that was clearly being used as my cats' bitch.

Epic fail.

"Well Cait, we better be going," Nan said. "Bup tried lying on the couch but it's just a bit too hard for his afternoon naps."

"You have a good afternoon at work Caitie," Bup said as he and Nan raced to the door to escape my miserable little dwelling that was clearly inhabited by wild animals.

When the door shut behind them, I looked at my clock: not even ten minutes had gone by.


Epic fail.

That night I called Nan to apologize for the chaotic and messy visit: "Nan, I am so embarrassed for how things turned out this afternoon."

"Why honey, whatever are you talking about? We didn't notice a thing."

Ah grandparents: the most masterful dealers of the little white lie.

Love you Bup and Nan!

1 comment:

Habebi said...

OMG what a disaster!!! Your grandparents were so sweet about it though. Wow, girl, that is one amazing story. And you'll always have it to show people how you can laugh about what life throws at ya.