Previously entitled: "Disney Does Not Smell Like Cat Pee"
This is a sister post, without her knowledge or consent, of Cee's post entitled "The Smell" that I dearly loved and often think about, for reasons that are obvious once you read what's below.
I haven't blogged for over a week. I have numerous posts I've started, but haven't had the time to finish, let alone edit. I've been reading all of your posts, though, and commenting as circumstancs allowed. But it's been weird, ever since my trip a couple of weeks ago to New Orleans, in fact. I don't like being away from blogging so much, and it probably shows. I might as well be wearing a "I'd rather be blogging" t-shirt!
And the truly sad part is that I'm pouting (quietly) about my bloggy-depravity, er, I mean deprivation, whilst in the middle of Disney.
It's spring break this week for us, along with millions of other folks in the USA. And yes, we're at Disney. Again. For the fifth, maybe sixth, maybe even the seventh time since Q was born.
AND, Disney smells. Or so I thought. Disney smells like cat pee. But of course, that's not true. Disney does not smell like cat pee. But do you know what DOES smell like cat pee? My suitcase. The one I took to New Orleans. The one into which I put a bunch of clean clothes for this week's trip to Disney. Those clean clothes went into the suitcase smelling like, well, clean clothes. They came out of the suitcase smelling like cat pee.
Why? Because when I got back from New Orleans, I left my suitcase open on the floor of my bedroom for days and days, maybe for over a week, probably. Guess who thought my suitcase was a fun place to visit? Maybe even a place to relieve herself? Yeah, one of our two cats. I think it was Nibbles, which especially irks me 'cause she's my favorite and I don't like being mad at her. Stupid cat. Stupid me for leaving the suitcase out and open and available. Argh.
So the night we arrived, I discover where the funny smell is coming from. I sort out my clothes and realize I'm gonna have to wash whatever has gotten the pee on it. The next day, I wear a shirt that doesn't match anything, but I think is fairly safe. I was wrong. Everywhere I went, I kept catching a slight whiff of cat pee. And had to switch from automatically thinking, "Man, Disney has really gone downhill. It doesn't even smell clean. Ugh!" to "Oh yeah. That's me. How nice. It's nice to know I'm the kind of person who shouldn't be allowed in the park with all the clean people."
That night, I washed everything I brought. Yep, doing laundry at Disney. Funny how that makes a vacation feel kinda less vacation-y. My husband was highly amused and felt very vindicated. I got several versions of "Maybe now you won't wait so long to unpack" from him, all delivered with sublime satisfaction and whatever that German word is for enjoying other people's misfortune. ["Schadenfreude"]
And I kept hearing my mother's voice from my youth, "Gudnuff, when are you going to learn to take care of your things??!?!!!?!"
Well, now we have the answer. We finally know it's March of 2009, dear mother. I will learn the necessity of getting my suitcase unpacked and put away in March of 2009.
Not this particular suitcase, though. Not from this trip. This suitcase is headed for a trashcan. Disney does not have trashcans large enough for a medium-sized suitcase, though. So, Hyphen-Mama, how does one recycle a smelly suitcase?
The Place Where All the Fun Happens
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