I had some friends in town this last weekend. It was delightful… but they made me realize something:
Having a cat litter box in your bedroom isn’t okay.
Of course, as good friends tend to be, they were right.
I’d been pulling the “I live in an apartment, where else do I put it excuse” – which – I still find mainly fair – but – I have a bathroom. And the litter box needs to go there. Plain and simple.
But here’s the thing, litter boxes aren’t pretty. I was sacrificing my bedroom corner (highly unseen) to allow my much more public bathroom to remain nice looking. But this could be no more, which is how the ‘Great Litter Box Solution Search of 2013’ started. I’d like to claim that I’m super inventive and thought of this idea all on my own… but really – I knew that surely there are other cat ladies out there that have DIY bones in their body and wanted to create some sort of nice looking surround for these unsightly boxes. And boy oh boy was I right. A few searches in Google later and I’d found something. Or about 2 million somethings. Apparently cat ladies have a lot of time to on their hands to browse the interwebs? Hmm… Interesting parallel… Anywho, Amazon had just about the purr-fect (I mean, come on, I couldn’t help it) option here – but it was $90. That’s ninety bones for something the cat uses as her toilet.
After consulting my DIY friend the southern gentleman from the dog park – we’ll just call him Mr. Southern Gentleman from here on out – he was absolutely sure that we could either 1) Build one or 2) Take a piece of furniture and convert it.
Also, he spoke of a glorious place here called the ReStore. Immediately a lunch outing was scheduled. Mr. Southern Gentleman, my other accomplice Water Boy* and I piled into the car and headed to the most amazing place. It was filled with reusable treasures… windows, glass, tile, carpet, wood… and these gems:
Okay, okay, so the spice rack was an accidental purchase. But it’s the best accidental $1 I’ve spent in a long long time. Plus, Jillian Michaels (my friend, not the actual person) will be SUPER proud when she visits next week, because now my spices will always face label out (organization win!).
And this is the story of how in the last week I’ve spent an excessive amount of time thinking about cat litter boxes… and why I think it’s fair that you can probably call me a cat lady and I shouldn’t be offended. Great news though, I officially have a new project on my hands. The real question – to paint it blue or white. Decisions decisions. Stay tuned friends. This is happening.
*In a sad sad tragedy, Water Boy became Water Boy before the blog was created. My new coworker was nice enough to agree to join me for some Christmas shopping errands (because who wants to go Christmas shopping alone?) and then we dined at Panera. Unbeknownst to him, I talk with my hands. And I’m a klutz. Poor guy didn’t know to move the GIANT water filled glass, full to the brim, from in front of me. He never saw it coming. Maybe five seconds after sitting down, I knock the entire glass of water down and all of the water goes rushing… right at him, his meal, and mainly his pants. The guy was soaked. And it was about 5 degrees outside. And his sandwich was soggy. And I couldn’t stop laughing. Because seriously Betsy, how are you going to make new friends when you’re just dumping water on them all of the time? Sigh. Good news, apparently our friendship didn’t suffer. And he still hangs out with me. But now he knows when I’m near to move any full glass from out of my reach… and his nickname will forever be Water Boy.