I went out today to buy a cat-pee tarp.
My cat Pantaloons has a problem with inappropriate elimination. I’ve written about it on this blog at least a dozen times. Over the years I’ve tried a number of solutions including rubbing Prozac in her ears. Every so often, no matter what, she pees on my comforter or clothes left on the ground. After a lot of research online I’ve determined that this is probably just a brain glitch that can’t be corrected. If I’m wrong and one day I find a solution, awesome.
Until then I’m surrendering to her liberal bladder.
I am powerless on where or when she pees. Whether it’s on the bed, the ground, or even, like earlier today, the guest bathtub, it’s out of my control. In the ultimate act of acceptance I went out and picked up a weatherproof tarp cover that is going over my bed when I’m away. This will allow her to pee like a drunk twenty-one year old in the alley of my condo after a Mars Volta concert next door. She can whiz away.
In the past I have kept the door to my bedroom closed. But I always felt a little like a dick because there’s a loveseat in here that she adores more than anything. I’ve outfitted the room with a second litter box. The thing that bugs me most of all, though, is when I come home and open the door it smells like stale D.J. farts. I keep the ceiling on 24-7 and it still reeks. I clean the sheets every week and all that, so keep your judgement down.
For me to throw the tarp over my bed will take an extra ten seconds each morning. I can handle that. She’ll be happier and I won’t have to freak out if I realize I forgot to close the bedroom door. I’ve been to the laundromat ten times this year because the comforter won’t fit in my washing machine.
One of the biggest things I’m working on personally is the need I have to control things. It’s exhausting. I’m specifically working on this with my girlfriend. I’ve tried to control women ever since I started dating. Now, not in abusive ways. Little things like, “Oh, next time do it this way.” Or, “Hey, I know you apologized, but you really didn’t say it in a way in which I believe you. Are you sure you’re sorry?” Of course, while I’m doing these things it seems totally logical and I don’t realize I’m being controlling.
I carry around a little notecard now that says, “Your inclination is to control Jessica [girlfriend]. You will think that you are absolutely right and want to change her. When you find yourself trying to correct her – STOP IMMEDIATELY.” This is a good reminder and in the past three days, I caught myself twelve times trying to change something about her actions or emotions. So, I thwarted twelve attempts. This is a good thing.
As I was walking around Home Depot today I thought there must be a ton of other areas in my life where I try to control outcomes. I’ve had a few therapists and each one has said how exhausted they would be if they were stuck in my thoughts. I run multiple scenarios for future action I want to take, trying to pick the best strategy for the best possible outcome, even when it’s just making lunch. I have a hard time simply making a sandwich when I think about what would be the most nutritious and exciting lunch I could create. Yes, this is nuts. I know.
So, I’m not exactly mellow. That’s okay, but if I could float down a river instead of trying to chart my own path that might be against the current, that would be helpful. Because the truth is that I can’t control hardly anything anyway. It’s an illusion. I mean I can’t even control my being controlling! The card in my pocket is evidence.
I’m going to start noticing each way in which I control and then just practice “letting go.” I’m terrified that it will all go to shit if I don’t control it, and maybe it will. That’s okay. I’ll just blame somebody else. Ooh, I could probably blame God! That will be fun. It’s the big guys’ fault! I like that.
In a totally unrelated story I was biking home and realized I had never seen how my dog or the geese I see every day would react together. I stopped and let Meepers out of her backpack. She looked at them. They panicked and started walking away slowly. I thought this photo was kind of neat.
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