Housework

As I was clearing out a football-sized clump of cat pee from Grady's litterbox (didn't I just clean this thing?) my foot nearly went through the floor. There wasn't a lot I could do to fix it then and there, because my morning time is NOT flexible, but Grady isn't heavy enough to aggravate it further so I'm putting it off until I get home tonight.

I don't have a rotted hole in my floor. What I have is a crawlspace cover that has somehow become dislodged or unseated, or the wood underneath holding it up has shifted or weakened. Grady's litterbox is in the hall closet where the crawlspace entry is.

This development makes cleaning the litterbox a little more complicated, since at least one of my feet is on that crawlspace cover during the process. Whether I pull the box out of the closet or reach farther is not the issue -- either way, my back will be strained. It doesn't help that the doors on this closet don't move easily. To try and figure this shit out when I had zero time to work on it would have woken Ethan up rather rudely.

I hate Mondays. I always have a Monday night commitment, and something always comes up to make that commitment incredibly inconvenient to keep.