At least I found the scissors.


Answer: Three clothespins; a Christmas ornament; 8″ pair of scissors with lime green handles; a large barrette; 2 stitch markers; and a marble sized, rock hard, dog turd.

Question:  What did the Hippie Chick find in her sofa?

I’m sure a number of you will be completely freaked, grossed, and troubled by the last item in that list.  But if you have kids, pets, or even just live in your living room from time to time, I’m sure you occasionally find something similarly organic in your sofa – because admit it, no matter how well you clean up after that sick kid, watch the dog when you’re house training or it’s elderly, or even eat the occasional meal on your sofa, you’re going to miss something.  Something will fall between the cushions or get lodged in the springs, or under the arms.  And you will find that something at a later date.

That’s what happened today.  Our last dog, the Jasmanian Devil, had started to have issues with the nerves in her back legs and the vet had warned us that incontinence might become an issue as the problem progressed.  She died before that happened.  But occasionally, the urge to poo would sneak up on her.  Towards the end of her life we would find random single small turds on the stairs, in her crate, and yes, on the sofa.

I decided to vacuum the sofa today because I wanted to try and clean up and declutter my little corner of the living room;  and I was actually looking for a button – which I didn’t find, it’s fairly large, and metal, so I was hoping a “deep” vacuuming of the sofa would help me locate the button.  It didn’t.  The button is still at large.  (By deep vacuuming, I mean vacuuming while standing on the sofa so that the gaps between the base and the back are opened up and I can now see into the gap created by my localized weight and I can get the nose of the hose in there – which is how I found so many random treasures.)

Lately I’ve been noticing that without Jasmine the dog around, I’m getting “sloppy”, things are getting cluttered, my stuff is accumulating differently.  I can’t speak for The Goat, but for me, having a dog in the house meant I had to think about putting that drink on the table at the end of the night, or returning it to the kitchen.  I had to take the time to put my crochet or knitting projects away, or she would sleep on them (and consequently, unintentionally, often undo a row or two or mess up the piece).  I didn’t leave books and magazines on the sofa because she would kick them off of it so she could get cozy.  Clothes didn’t hit the floor as often, because she would search the pockets for “truffles” (used tissues) or walk/lay on them.

All of these little things have been adding up, along with my recent desire to declutter and remove the excess bits from our home.  How do all of my scarves end up in a chair in the living room?  Why did I leave our clean sheets on my dresser?  We have how many blankets? (Really!  How many?  I know I get cold, but I own a freakin’ yarn shop!  Why do we have so many fleece throws?  They must reproduce at night.)  Why is our address book still on the kitchen counter?  Why do I have 3 slippers by the bed – not 3 pair, 3 slippers; 2 left and a right?

Some days I feel like I’m taking one step forward and two steps backwards.  As I get a few things taken care of, tackle a larger task, or take care of the day to day stuff, new tasks are created.  So now I feel weeks behind in my housework.  I’m not so far behind that I can’t catch up with the day to day stuff – cleaning the bathroom, mopping the floor, etc.  And honestly, most people wouldn’t even notice, but I do.  And that’s what bothers me.  Why do I notice?  Until now, you didn’t know I had 3 slippers, or fleece throws that multiply like bunnies.

Needless to say, finding a petrified piece of dog poo in the sofa may be the highlight of the weekend.  If only because it reminds me not to become so consumed with my housework to-do list that I forget about the home and the beings that live (and have lived) in it.  Because at the end of the day, it’s having a home that matters.  (And the scissors.  I wondered where they went.)