Atypical me

I am currently having work done in my house to add a bathroom on the second floor. I know having a new bathroom up there is going to be great, but it has been a little crazy for me to deal with the instability of having ongoing construction.

It meant that the garage was taken up with supplies and garbage so I couldn't park my car there in the middle of winter in Ohio. (Todd and I remedied that by picking up all the trash and organizing the supplies last night.) Also, because they are doing work in the room that contains my closet, I have had to live with all my clothes on the bedroom floor. This may be the norm for some of you, but it isn't the norm for me. My computer was also set up in there. There are plastic strips running through the house to try and protect the carpet. Everything is really dirty and there is really no point in cleaning until after they are done. So, in terms of me living the life that I have grown accustomed, it is quite a disturbance.

I guess I can deal with all that.

What I can't deal with is coming home from work and not being able to find my cat. I know cats aren't as cool as dogs. I know cats are less valuable culturally in this country than other pets, but damnit, I have become pretty attached to my cat Pixie. I still maintain that I would rather have a dog, but I am not going to apologize.

Back to the situation at hand. I am running all over my house looking for my cat and she isn't anywhere. She isn't making any noise. I am using an ultra-stupid, high pitched voice to yell "Pixie" while shaking a miniature can of her treats. I am sure I looked like a retarded salsa band member with a horrible singing voice, but you only think of these things in hindsight.

I have deduced, by checking every hiding spot that I know about in the house, that Pixie has escaped the evil and noisy workmen by braving the 2+ feet of snow that remains on the ground since this weekend. I now have a flashlight and I am looking all around my house to see if maybe she left some tracks. I am quietly thinking to myself that even if she left huge obvious tracks in the snow, would I be able to tell that they were hers? Would I try and follow them around the neighborhood? Who in the world do I think I am? Looking for tracks in the snow? There are none to be found thankfully, as I have now realized that tracks wouldn't have helped my retarded ass do anything about anything.

The workmen haven't seen her all day, and I can tell that they feel badly, but they really don't know what to do. Then Todd gets there and he starts helping me look for her. Now Todd is checking the outdoors for tracks in case his Native American-like animal tracking abilities are any better than mine.

I have already checked the area where the workmen are, but then it occurs to me that Pixie could be in a wall somewhere, or she could have gotten into the crawl space area and maybe found a way somewhere else in the house that I hadn't thought of looking, because I had logically ruled it out. The attic above the garage. I know those crawl spaces in my house don't make it to the attic in the garage, at least not from and way that I can see, but maybe there is a way for a small kitten with a bad attitude about power tools to find her way from one side to the other.

There also happens to be a door to that attic from my bedroom upstairs so I walked in and looked around until I saw those green eyes catch a little bit of light. She reluctantly came out from her hiding place and disaster was averted.

Pixie is now safely locked in Todd's office for the remainder of the week when we are not at the house. I am really hoping they finish sooner rather than later so I can get my situation back to normal.

Have I ever mentioned how much instability bugs me?