what witchcraft is this


This turned into a gross story-telling session.  But I still think it’s hilarious and insightful.  And at least I came back to the top to mention it.  So….fair warning.

Listen, I don’t know what this carpet is made of but bitch, I can clean it with a Clorox Antibacterial Wipe.

The fibers are short.  The color is basically awful.  It’s aesthetically displeasing in almost every way.  But the practicality of this shit is….well, it’s nothing short of witchcraft.

I mentioned recently the perpetual hairball situation I live with now, and I’m here to tell you that the only reason I don’t dread hairballs more is because I know I can pick up the solidish portion and throw it away and then use one or two wipes to straight-up scrub the brown gooey remains right off the carpet.  It’s nasty, I know.  Ya nasty.  Ya face is nasty, ya life is nasty…ya nasty.  But my gawd it’s easy, and can’t believe I never tried using a damned Clorox Wipe (of all things?!) ever before.  Ok, I can believe it.  Because it shouldn’t make sense.

Story time!  Before Sinon, I was a diehard Dog Person.  One of those that didn’t like cats, even in their most pure and adorable form.  They were the devil, sent to ruin mankind with their giant mesmerizing eyes and short little untrustworthy snouts.

This precious baby wouldn’t have phased me.

Several years ago I had two dogs, neither of which were large.  I also had the most luxurious carpet at the new house I had just purchased.  The previous owners had just replaced it!  What a great deal!

My dogs weren’t like the giant horsebeasts I now live with now.  Thankfully.  Two weeks ago one of them swallowed a sock whole, and last week she finally shot it out her arsehole.  On an bitter cold day when the dogs were left inside.  Following the sock were several days of poo, projectiled into the world like unwilling and unwanted party favors.  There are now 14 freshly-shampooed areas on the carpet upstairs, each roughly the size of a toddler.

I hope that these big dogs are never STUPID enough to do what my dogs did.  Once, one of them had horrendous diarrhea.  Like something out of those overly-creepy horror flicks that came out in the 2000’s.  I thought the hills really did have eyes, and they were going to come kill me while I addressed this massacre.  As I started gathering cleaning supplies, both of my dogs started eating the fucking diarrhea.  Is that even a thing?!!  The result was something I less-than-fondly named shit-vomit.  It was, hands-down, the most awful thing you could imagine, times ten, and then set on fire.  And that luxurious new carpet?  It was just so…absorbent.  It was like a magnet for the shit-vomit in such a complete and unrelenting way that even a rented commercial-grade Rug-Doctor wouldn’t permanently remove the evidence of what happened that day.

What’s my point?  Well shit, that’s a great question.  I guess I just love this fugly carpet I have now.  I also love that I don’t have to deal with the horsebeasts that live here, but I can get 120-pound puppy cuddles whenever they aren’t shitting all over the place.  And while I still love dogs, I love even more not having to take care of one.