Cats in the hood

I am getting old. It is inevitable; it's happening, so I might as well admit to it.
It's not something I dread or anything; as a matter of fact I actually feel more liberated the older I get. My eccentric strike is more approved of, and the demands society has on my looks and appearance are more agreeable with my own standards: I don't have to be stylish and/or groomed, as long as I am clean.

Part of getting old is becoming more grumpy and annoyed at things which really should be trifle details, but which is actually worth giving a more profound thought. Because I am old, and all, you know?

One of the things which annoys me, and this is becoming more and more of an issue, is cats' droppings. Cats have a way of leaving behind all kinds of repellant stuff, like hair, catch of the day like mutilated birds and mice, and yes: poop. Cats dump their filthiness on the most strategic places, and that really doesn't suit me. I don't like it one bit.

My son is allergic to cats, and the hairs on our garden furniture is really unfortunate. Whatever furniture I keep outdoors, will soon be a preferred hangout for the cats living in the hood. It's like a headquarter for the cool guys. Often they don't even care when they see me charging them, broom, high heels, crazy hair, and all. They probably know me too well, by now. They know I won't hurt them. I just want them away. I can want all the way to China, they don't give a toss about me and what I want.

Every morning when I am off to work, I see the the rear end and a dishvelled tail of a cat rushing off in sheer panic. I know he sleeps in the doghouse, I just never can catch him red handed. The thought he is afraid, very afraid, of me, gives me a much needed psychological barrel over him. It is war. A war between me and the unwanted, stinky sleepovers.

Even though I have had cats before, I am not a cat-person. I have a dog. Having a dog in the house it is infinitely annoying to have cats with self-proclaimed permanent residence permit in my yard. The catty smell of what they leave behind when they do what they do, is really annoying. Even more so when I find it in my flower jars (!) and beds.

It is extra annoying as I, because I am a responsible owner of a dog, am expected to pick up after him, which I do, but catowners don't have that duty. Catowners are exempted that nasty obligation. Cats are, after all, stray animals, and they got rights! They need to wander about where ever they choose to wander in order to be happy. At least that is what I am being told when I moan and mope.
To me it is self evident that cats should be under the leash law, just like dogs, but somehow most people don't see that.

Unfortunately cats don't read signs, and folk remedies like
orange peel, black pepper, garlic, grind coffee and
 anti-cat remedies bought at the store, really don't work. 

I've even heard that cat's do not litter on their own turf, unless they are forced to. They my have 9 lives, but some time they will have to go do their business, just like any other creature. They can not hold it in for days. And when they go, they prefere doing it elsewhere, which makes sense: If I could deside wheather to stink up my own house or the neighbor's, I would not choose my own house and garden.

Some will say I am pretty crazy for bothering making a fuzz about cats on the loose pooping in my garden. To be honest I don't find it to be a trifle thing at all.
It is my honest opinion it is way too easy to get a cute kitten, and you get it for free, and you adore it while it is small and adorable.
You let it out to do its business, and one day it is too much trouble to let the cat in and out, so you put the bowls with water and food outside as well, and suddenly you haven't actually seen the cat for weeks.... but the food is gone, so you are sure it's around. Somewhere.

So these stray cats keep their house, which they no longer actually live in, clean. And they do what cats do in my garden.
There is a reason we have a dog: We are not catpeople! We don't like cats! And my son is allergic! So why would a neighbor want to be our bad neighbor, and make their animal our work? Why do my kids risk stepping into a stinky poop in our garden? We are not talking about one or two; in the course of a week I am sure we get at least 40 droppings strategically placed in our garden. No kidding! And they place them where I can't see them, but I can smell them, and then have to look for them.

I like cats. I don't hate them. I just don't want to be burdened with them. I want people to let the cat in at night so it doesn't keep me awake with its flirting and fighting.
I wish cats were more expensive. I wish all cats got a yearly checkup with a vet, shots, cures and dental treatment and castrated. Yes, I do not want more unwanted cats in my neighborhood. I wish cats had to be kept indoors at night.

I want to stroll about on my own land without fear I'll get smelly, nasty stuff on my shoes or between my toes. I want to open my windows and doors to let fresh air breeze through my house, without getting uninvited four-legged visitors who enter my castle for the only reason to fight my dog.

And I want to sleep at night. I want to sleep at night without wondering is that a baby? or a cat? probably a cat.... but what if it's a baby?...

I want not to worry about animals I never wanted to worry about.

40+ bags... of clothes...?

My this year's 40 bags in 40 days decluttering mission, is over. By defenition, that is, but far from in reality. Just like every of the previous years I stay on the mission of getting rid of yet another bag every day.

Just in case you have missed out on what 40 bags in 40 days is about, here is the challenge ecplained:

The 40 Bags in 40 Days challenge typically happens during Lent, but you could do it any time of year. For 40 days, you commit to decluttering one bagful of stuff from your home each day. After 40 days, you will have decluttered a ton of stuff!

For 40 days I follow fellow declutterers on facebook, blogs and podcasts, and pat myself on my shoulder for beeing good too. Some times I brag about my progress and tell them I am pleased. Other times I just post a sigh.

Although... some of those women, and a very few men, go bananas and hire crazy big containers and attack their long protected and designated clutter like nuts.

They post before and after photos of their house, and get feedback from strangers, who in a strange way become an allied cheering squad, friends and supporters. We follow eachother's ups and downs in all kinds of everyday happenings.

I have cleaned up, and sorted out, my wardrobe, pretty OK. I still have lots there I never wear, but there's no longer fear involved when I need to find something to wear. I used to be afraid piles of folded clothes would fall and bury me.

I have rearranged my furniture, and I think my new arrangement has created a tiny bit of more space. More floor to move on, easier to clean. and shedded fur from my dog can no longer hide... it's all good. Not only does it look better, but there is something calming about knowing my house is a better place than it used to be. Better in the sense of not overwhelming to take on when I tidy up or have to clean.

Cleaning is a constant struggle because of furniture and their legs. Chairs and odd bits of furniture skattered about, really hinder my mop. But not anymore.

Anyway. My 40 days, through lent, have yet again been good to me and my house.

Only... do you find that in the middle of tidying up and cleaning, the house looks worse than ever?

I look around and find complete chaos. Even now, months later.

In my head I have this vision of what it will turn out to be like, but somehow I just can't get to the point when things just land in place

I am not a hoarder, but I have never been able to throw perfectly fine things away. I might need them, some day, and in my head I have this idea it would be really stupid to throw something away, and then go buy the exact same thing, only new.

I've not yet needed anything I've put away, though. I am soon 47 years old, and it may be time for me to accept that every thing had its time and use.

There is a good chance the thought sneaked upon me when I last week discovered I have no more room in my storage upstairs the carport.

And why would I want to keep a mattress which was never comfortable? I have 4 of those. They take up a lot of space.

My biggest trouble is my clothes. I have printed checklists on how to do it, but never can bring myself to really, truly, devote myself to execute.

I have hardly ever thrown away attire... which means I have even 30 years old garment in my wardrobe, which never looked good in the first place.

In every other aspect of my life I am a pragmatic. And it hurts I have not yet learned to be, and act, logical about clothes. I never wear most of what is in my closet, nor do I think about it a lot, but when it comes to getting rid of it I can stand in front of this insuperable mass of fabric and colours and I can't find anything to get rid of.

Paradoxically I always have problems what to wear. I usually blame my body being too big, too curvy, too pale... but it's not the case, really. It's more a question of how the amount makes it a hotchpotch, rather than a lucid selection of items to wear.

I really want to dress and accessorize, and apply the philosophy to my personal appearance that my family can feel proud I belong in their pack. I don't feel they can now, even though I know they are generous enough to do so.

It has come to the point I understand this affects my family, my house and my state of mind. I understand there is a need I become an Upholder. I need to stay tidy and cut back so we all can feel that the effects ground us all and allow our home to spark joy for my family and me. I have friends who would really like to take on some of it. Friends who can't afford to just go out and buy a new outfit. I have a friend I would trust to go through it all, leaving only what she thinks becomes me, but it is hard to ask for help. In a strange way that makes me even more vulnerable.

It is hard to be a strong person when it comes to that: being exposed. Even when it comes to friends you trust.

I read an article about Marie Kondo where she stated: “Tidying is the act of confronting yourself; cleaning is the act of confronting nature.”

I think I just have to do just that. Soon. Sometime in the near future.