At five-thirty this morning, there was what sounded like an entire wall collapsing in my house. Inspection revealed a smaller, yet not inconsequential, disaster.
With the exception of my lemon tree and Christmas cactus, all my plants are hanging plants. Because…cats. I’ve never worried about the lemon tree because it has spikes for thorns and the Christmas cactus has never interested any of the whiskered clan.
I’m not sure what happened this morning. The lemon tree sits atop my kitchen hutch, it weighs a ton and the Christmas cactus sits next to it.
The plants are offset so there is plenty of room for the cats to sit next to them without bothering them. And they never have. What happened this morning, I can only surmise. I suspect Gabe somehow snagged a claw on the moisture pad under the plants and they all came tumbling down.
The best part? Somehow on the way down, he managed to knock the drawers open. The drawers that contain my tablecloths, placemats, cloth napkins, dish towels and grilling utensils. Not only are they covered with mud (because of course I just watered everything yesterday) but also blood, since I cut my finger on a pottery shard hidden in that pile of dirt.
Two cups of coffee and two hours later, the kitchen is cleaned, vacuumed and mopped, the laundry is started, the plants repotted and the cats’ nails trimmed (yes, horse-barn, I know).
I need a nap. But at least the kitchen is clean.