Morning!
My main morning job seems to be keeping the settee warm relocating errant bumblebees. The DTwatCats/Satanic Vectors of Contagion seem to have finally got it into their thick little skulls that the furry flying pingpongs have a pointy end this year, so aren't wandering around looking like fourlegged Kardashians for once, even though my 'panicbuying' repeat order of the usual three months' supply of wanky organic/grainfree/hypoallergic/allegedly named after the boss's dog brand crunchies means that they both have arses in keeping with the look.
Which leads be on to something relevant. Without said wanky crunchies, DTwatCat #2, Madame Fluffyknickers, will have profuse and purulent diarrhoea. She then requires, being a cat of extreme fluffage, a full hosedown. So I can, with pleasure, explain the process by which you decontaminate a feline;
Put on minimal sportswear. A pair of gym capris and a bra top is suitable. Do not bother with footwear, socks, knickers or anything else. Take said feline.
Place feline in a completely tiled wetroom and close the door. Switch on shower. Watch feline perform her own version of a motorcycle Wall of Death for five minutes as you stand in the middle of the wetroom brandishing the showerhead. Apply soap to particularly soiled parts when the floor and walls are too wet for her to be able to continue her daring feats of defying gravity, then rinse.
At a suitable moment (such as you realising that you are probably wetter than the rancid little rat thing now cowering behind the toilet), turn off the water and alert your assistant waiting outside to get the towels ready. Open the door, watch pathetic rat creature leave the room so fast that there's a tiny sonic boom as she launches over the assistant's right shoulder.
Squelch out the door and dry yourself as you wonder where pathetic creature is now hiding. It will emerge in approximately 8 hours time, suitably decontaminated. And for the next month, you are guaranteed to have feline free toilet visits, as there is no way on earth she is risking being in a room where you could get her wet again.
Or, you immerse them in a bath. But I'm not mad/suicidal. Did you know that cats can literally climb tiles by digging their claws into the grouting if they are suitably motivated to do so?
Debating about whether to pot up some plants in a minute. I might be able to swing things away from the Murderer of Delivery Men's Grandmothers side by repotting some herbs. They're edible (and very tasty), and arguably medicinal.
Of course, I've already ruined the utilitarianism of having herbs in the window by a) making them look pretty and b) putting a toy dinosaur in amongst them. So I'm really doing it for shits and giggles.
I'll have to set foot out the back to the weed patch and retrieve some larger pots, though.