I have been having just a little more than my fair share of bad luck lately. Nothing devastating, but it is starting to add up and get annoying. I maintain good humor throughout by assuring myself that at the other end of this I will win the lottery or have some other stroke of fantastic good fortune.
Yesterday my husband was in our attic trying to track down the source of our bad luck roof leak. He couldn't find it, came down, and went about his day. He didn't notice the furry, moronic stowaway. Last night I am putting our son to sleep when I hear sad cat noises coming from the ceiling.
Now, Mr. Bolamas is a mostly great cat. He does cute stuff and has soft fur. But we got him from a shelter, and I often wonder if his early years of living on the street didn't short out some of his synapses, as he seems barely equipped to deal with the not-at-all rigorous life of an indoor cat.
So we drag out the ladder and Nort springs from his bed yelling, "I can help you!! I'll get the flashlight!!" Clearly, bedtime will not be going smoothly this evening.
Eventually I coax the cat over to the trapdoor and pick him up. All is fine until I try to get step back on the ladder. Bolamas gets a war flashback look in his eyes and starts making terrified noises like GLAAARGHH GLAAAARGGGHHH as he rips pieces of my shoulder out trying to claw his way back into the attic. He then runs around freaking out and creating clouds of fiberglass insulation and cat fur.
It is during Mike's turn at cat extraction that things go from bad and scratchy to horribly wrong. Bolamas is cornered and caught, and I hear Mike walking toward the ladder. Then I hear crashing, yelling, more GLAAARGGGHHH! and the thunderous noise of what I immediately assume are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse descending on our upstairs landing. Turns out it was just huge pieces of our ceiling falling down. Wait, is that better?
Mike has fallen through our attic floor. His legs dangle down next to the smoke detector like a creepy chandelier. Bolamas claws him in the face and runs away again. It is at once awful (Mike hurt himself, but more importantly we just got the damn hallway painted! ) and hilarious (self explanatory).
In the end, I wrapped our cat in a towel and we taped garbage bags over the hole. Problem solved.