I swear to you, I’m starting to resent spring. Oh, I know I
should love it. After all, what’s not to love? The rain has finally
stopped (fingers crossed), it’s warm and sunny, and the turkeys
have apparently moved to another house so my patio is no longer
their personal restroom (sadly for No-no Lulu, this has cut down on
her between-meal snacks).
I swear to you, I’m starting to resent spring. Oh, I know I should love it. After all, what’s not to love? The rain has finally stopped (fingers crossed), it’s warm and sunny, and the turkeys have apparently moved to another house so my patio is no longer their personal restroom (sadly for No-no Lulu, this has cut down on her between-meal snacks).
So I ask you again, what’s not to love?
Um, well, let’s see. If the rain has stopped and the flowers are blooming that means only one thing in my house. The season formerly known as spring has now morphed into “Headache, Sniffle and Nose Blowing Season Sponsored by Zyrtec.” Or, as I like to call it, “the season where all the Kleenex on the planet is used up.”
This time of year makes me crazy. Oh, not because I have allergies. I mean, I do, but they are minor. Harry and Junior, on the other hand, have major allergies. Basically they can spend an entire spring on the couch, surrounded by tissue boxes, bottles of allergy pills and inhalers. Their eyes water, their noses run and frankly, it’s not a pretty sight for anyone.
Unless you are a dog, of course. The dogs love allergy season. After all, this is the only time of the year when one of their favorite chew toys – used tissues – is in plentiful supply. In case you were wondering, their other favorite chew toys are brand new socks and throw pillows.
They are especially fond of the throw pillows that are filled with down. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve walked into the living room, only to discover that it looks like a ritual duck sacrifice had just occurred – either that or several ducks had wandered in and spontaneously exploded all over the good couch.
But spring is special. In spring, Kirby and No-no Lulu fill their days with attacks on the bathroom garbage cans. Once their treasure is found, they happily spread used tissue throughout the entire house. And yes, I do find this exactly as disgusting as you do. Possibly even more disgusting. After all, I’m the one cleaning it up.
And before you ask, yes, I’ve tried to keep the tissues away from the dogs. I’ve asked – no, begged – Harry and Junior to shut the bathroom doors. Please. I might as well be asking that they lasso the moon and bring it to me so I can hold it hostage. Seriously, I have more chance of that happening. Each time I ask, they look at me through watery eyes and promise to shut the doors. And then, much like their promises to always put the toilet lids down, they forget to shut the doors.
And thus, the dogs get more chew toys. And I get to follow the trails of tissue throughout the house.
It’s a never-ending battle. Yesterday, I moved the chairs in the dining room out of the way so I could vacuum; only to discover that an entire tissue mountain had been created under the slip covered chairs. I’ve never seen so much used tissue in my life. I’m positive that if I tied the tissues end to end, we’d have a stairway to the stars … or maybe just downtown. It’s a tough call.
I don’t even want to move the family room couch. It’s a sectional, so heaven only knows how many tissues are under it. Probably an entire season’s worth. At least with the beds, I can make the vacuum cleaner go underneath, so I don’t have to touch any icky used tissues. The darned couch is too short to do that.
I think that might be the worst part. Here I am, the only person in the house without seasonal allergies and yet I’m touching everyone’s used Kleenex that dogs may or may not have slobbered on. Seriously. It’s nasty. Look, I’m a mom. I have done things I never thought I’d do. I have changed diapers after a chili dinner. I have cleaned up projectile vomit at 2 a.m. I’m not a squeamish person. But I hate touching used tissues. It’s just gross.
But it’s spring, so someone has to do it. And that is why tonight I’m having Harry and Junior move the couch. Maybe touching icky old tissues will finally teach them to shut the dang bathroom doors or at least to empty the trash more often.
I can hope, can’t I?
