Old Things Were Made New, Unfortunately

*
Our downstairs bathroom is my least favorite room in our house. It is small, dark, dusty, half-painted, has a child safety gate in the doorway--and, most importantly, it is home to our cat Frisco's litter box.

 

When it is time to clean the bathrooms, I always start upstairs--and I often get interrupted or distracted before I get to the downstairs one. I sometimes call it the "boys' bathroom" because Frisco, Benjamin, Jason, and Jason's employees are the only ones who use it. In fact, even when I am sick with the flu, I usually attempt to climb the stairs and make it to the bigger, brighter, and cleaner "girls'" room.

So it wasn't too much of a surprise a few days ago when I noticed a foul smell coming from the small bathroom. I assumed it was Frisco's litter box (which Jason normally cleans), and--more than a little irritated--I not only scooped it (hopefully nobody is reading this while eating!) but dumped all the litter into an industrial-strength garbage bag and sprayed an unhealthy amount of Lysol in and around the entire litter box area.

I then invented an excuse to go out so I could balance the garbage bag on the front of the van (as opposed to lugging it down a set of cement stairs that had potential to rip the bag), and drive it to our complex's dumpster.

Problem not solved.

The next morning, I noticed that the disgusting litter box smell was not only still there--it was getting worse. I could smell it upstairs. In fact, it was so strong I could not even bring myself to go back into the small bathroom. I tried to do the laundry (which is beside the small bathroom), but the stench from the litter box was so overpowering that I decided to take action right away.

I piled the kids into the van and drove to our favorite pet supply store (okay . . . it was Walmart) to buy a new litter box, new kitty litter and an air freshener. While I was in the cat aisle, I also decided to spring for the slightly over-priced litter box liners and baking soda packaged especially for use in litter boxes. I even bought Frisco a new food dish and a new water dish--just in case the smell was coming from his dining area rather than the litter box. I was going to be thorough!

 

I came home, got out another big orange garbage bag, dumped all of Frisco's items into it, then started scrubbing the bathroom floor--all while holding my breath. I sprayed our new Fabreeze vanilla lavendar air freshener, then decided to complete the job by scrubbing the toilet, and then the sink.

Just as I was finishing up, I noticed a red bucket beside the sink that Ben and Janae had taken to the beach a couple of weeks ago. As I looked inside to admire the kids' seashell collection, I noticed something--the smell was back. I put my nose into the bucket--gagged, and realized . . . Frisco was not to blame. Jason was not to blame. It was the bucket and the seashells--and the person who hadn't cleaned the bathroom.

 

So, I hope Frisco will enjoy his new furnishings. It was about time to replace them anyway . . . and I think that cat needs a little more love!