Those Present Concerns

The cats have been driving me crazy, and threatening the peaceful balance between me and J.M..

Pangor has continued to use the front hallway as his personal litter box, finally to the complete exclusion of the real thing. J.M. has been none to impressed. Understandably, but as I have been trying to figure solutions in the back of my brain, he's been fretting on my last nerve, and indicating that he'd rather the crazy one be (re: he would be happier) elsewhere. Admittedly, this has been a stinky, physically unpleasant problem, but animals are living, breathing things, with feelings, and confusions; and I did not want to further traumatize the poor feline, who is already, clearly, disturbed. (I think he hallucinates.)

This all calumniated with me quipping back to J.M. on his way out of the house a couple of nights ago, "How 'bout I just have him put to sleep?"

To which he responded, "I'm sorry I'm being such a bitch about it," and we had, I suppose, what amounted to a version (a faggy, repressed sort of version) of a fight, before he left. Then we didn't talk for a couple of days.

During which time I think I may have solved the problem: new litter box, garbage can out back, repeated scrubbing of the hallway, and some stern manhandling of the cat. These are the elements of a productive equation. So far, so good.

The silence broke this morning, and thus far there have been no "accidents". Happily, J.M.'s grant came through in the mail today, and he's off to New York, New York tomorrow, so the day's shaping up to be a good one.

My god, sometimes life is mediocre.