There are some women in the world who keep their homes immaculate. I am not one of them. I know women who say that they would be mortified if, after they died, people would come into their homes and find a mess. I’ve never said that. In the first place, I’d be dead and wouldn’t care. In the second place, I would hope my friends wouldn’t either.
But the cat tree was driving me crazy. With two tuxedo cats–black and white–their fur shows up every place. White on dark fabrics and dark on light fabrics. The cat tree used to be light beige. When I looked at it this morning, it was beige and black tweed. I do have a limit with how much non-immaculateness I can put up with. The cat tree hit it.
For that reason, I pulled it from its corner, got a stiff brush out, and started de-furring–the cat tree not the cats. That will come later. Of course, as soon as the position of their favorite piece of furniture (after me) moved, both Maggie and Scooter had to come out and investigate. They investigate by climbing up the cat tree and curling up on their levels. As you may guess, this makes it much more difficult to clean. I gave up.
The picture at the top explains why.