So my fuck up started a few weeks ago.
My husband and I have a 7 month old who is, like most babies, a handful. Inbetween working and looking after the baby, our flat was starting to look like a bomb site. Before we had our baby, when we had money to spend, we decorated our first home with the best furniture we could afford. I mean, we spent expecting the furniture to last us for a long time. I should also mention with our carefree, money burning lives we also bought two very expensive pedigree cats. After our baby the cats have kind of taken a back seat too. Once groomed, played with kittens are now lazy, fur balls who spend their awake time creating chaos. My husband attempts to change their litter daily but sometimes we skip a day. As long as they are fed, this is only temporary and I am sure they know it. We give them love when we can. However, the flat was getting so full of fluff our baby was starting to get fur in his poop. Obviously something had to be done, so we decided to get a cleaner.
Well, it started out ok. Cleaner didn't speak English at all but we managed and she did a passable job. It was clear she had no idea of modern day gadgets like dishwashers and cordless vacuum cleaners but through miming and a few key words we got by. Many things I just let go trying to explain as it was just too difficult. Vacuumed, dusted, polished, the flat was starting to resemble the beautiful home we once had. That is until yesterday. I managed to have a lie in with our baby and woke up at 7am. I had envisioned in my mind the brunch I would make my family, us sitting down to watch cooking shows in our pyjamas, our baby making shrieks of laughter at daddy attempting to feed him whilst I sipped a caffeinated fresh coffee, a luxury to a breastfeeding mother. Mind at ease that no cleaning had to be done today, I could enjoy a few moments of peace while my husband looked after our baby. That is until I saw the wet patch, an insignificant wet patch on my stylish velvet 3 seater sofa. I shouted at my husband asking if he spilt anything to which he confessed the cat pooed on the sofa. He revealed that during the night he found our cat's box turned the wrong way around so they couldn't get to the door. Realising instantly that our cleaner, cleaning the floor, must have turned the box around when she put it back. But that was Thursday afternoon this was Saturday morning! For those of you who haven't owned a cat or had one pee in your house let me explain, the smell isn't instant, it is one that slowly creeps up on you until you discover its existence. I marched back over to the sofa and it hits me, this thing stinks! I see wet patch is in fact a patch of pee. Ok, after the initial shock I remember that is what dry cleaners are for. So, packing baby into the car, we head for the nearest dry cleaners who explain that the stain won't come out, they can try to remove the smell but the cushion pad will need replacing. Ok, I think, let me phone the manufacturers. So, on the phone to the manufacturers they can replace the cushion but it will take up to 6 weeks! 6 weeks without one cushion pad. Fine I think, I mean I am angry at this point, it will cost a lot to replace, I feel like crying but it is fixable. So we go home and I can still smell it. It is the most identifiable smell once you know it is there. So I feel around the other cushion and I feel several more wet patches. At this point my day is ruined. My sofa, my beautiful sofa that we bought together. I never owned good quality furniture, my family never had nice things. I loved this sofa, I nurse my baby on it, my husband camps out on it, I spent my entire pregnancy on it. But, ok, I can buy another cushion pad, we just won't have a sofa for 6 weeks. So I get rid of the cushion. But I can still smell it. I find another one, this time on the back of the sofa, is another wet patch, and this time it can't be dry cleaned, it is the sofa itself. A £1100 sofa ruined. So after more anger from me and my husband, I calm down and take to our arm chair nursing my boy, having him sleep peacefully in my arms. I can still smell it. I pass the now crying baby to my husband and sniffing like crazy there it is, this time on a cushion, the stale, rancid stench of a desparate cat. Another one to the dry cleaners. So I decide to inspect our other cushions, the cushions we bought matching our sofa and again, I smell it. More pee!
So I am sitting here on my bed with my cats as we are out of living room furniture, wondering how on earth we are going to afford another couch. I feel kinda sorry for my cats but much more sorry for myself wishing we had never got that cleaner, wondering if that contents insurance we passed on would have covered it, and thinking how, in making life easier for ourselves has one simple mistake made such a hassle for us.
I just hope I don't find more pee...
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