what did the cat poop on, again?

Last week, I counseled at a summer camp. Yeah yeah, you guys already knew that. Well. 'Round about Friday afternoon, it occurred to me, "Geezdang, I am probably going to lose my voice." Premonitions for the win! But it wasn't just my voice that went. This has been a legit cold (however, not legit enough to keep me from going to the library. I would have to be dying). There's a certain kind of madness that befalls me when I'm sick. I guess this is called being delirious, but it could also be called "having no common sense," and/or "failure to anticipate consequences." Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, it was this past Sunday, and I was in Louisville. I felt minorly gross and majorly ready to be back with my husband. So, I piled the cat into the car (my parents had watched him all week), and headed home. Usually, we put the seats of our Fit down in the back when carting animals, but I was not in the mood to readjust. The litter box went on the floorboard behind the driver's seat (another good reason to keep the windows rolled down). Before leaving Louisville, I had lunch with a friend. I cracked the windows, you know, so the cat wouldn't die, and thought, hm, it's probably going to rain before I come back. Premonitions ftw x2!

I came back to my car post-lunch, and wouldn't you know. I had, like a genius, left my LAPTOP on the passenger's seat, which had been properly rained-upon. Great. Then, furthermore like a genius, I chucked it into the backseat. Because that fixes everything.

I drove the four hours home to Rockford. I came inside. I crashed on the couch. I moved to the bed because it was still too light outside, and I was in cranky-vampire mode. My husband came home not long after, and brought all of my things inside for me. What a champ.

Then, I heard him ask from the next room, "Uh... Julie? Is there a reason your computer was in the litter box? I think Oliver pooped on it."

Oh yes. Awesome. In my feverish haste, I had tossed my laptop, the device on which I intend to compose masterpieces, into the USED cat box. WHERE IT REMAINED FOR FOUR HOURS IN A HOT CAR.

Kind of like this, except this one's actually a cake.

Well. It's a good thing my husband is fantastic and was not also going out of his mind that day. He rescued my MacBook from the cat poop (and, yes, Oliver had defecated directly upon it, the weasel). He cleaned it shiny-new, inside and out, with Lysol bathroom cleaner. Aren't you glad?

And now, if I ever become a published author, you all will know my secret: Feline Pine.