Thursday, 26 December 2013

Sophie Scissorhands




There is another use for the SodaStream that Marissa bought me this Christmas.
It will reduce, substantially, the overflowing recycle box, that one that fills to the brim with soda water cans each week.
The SodaStream should reduce our carbon footprint. With fewer cans, there will also be fewer cardboard boxes to throw out.
But the real reason I'm happy is that we may finally manage to thwart Sophie Scissorhands whose primary occupation is shredding paper.
She could be the inspiration for the saying "the dog ate my homework".
Leave out a box, an LCBO bag or have a thesis lying around and you will find bits of it in the bathroom, under the blanket or simply where it used to be. Leave the Vanity Fair in the can and you will find the head of Amy Adams dismembered in another location.
And don't even get me started on toilet paper, her favorite of all.
By the time I find a toilet roll, it is more or less cement, made so by Sophie's over-active pug saliva glands churning three ply into one.
Cleaning for Christmas this year was an absolute nightmare. There were bi-bits of paper everywhere glued to the carpet under the sofa or on my ass end after I spent an hour on it trying to find all her hiding locations.
There is so much of litter, combined with the fur of the Black Bastard Finnigan, that I have to vacuum the carpet with my hands.
Several times a week, I put on Les Miserables, and get on my bad knee and comb and comb and comb. Sometimes, I stick myself with a piece of wood that Sophie has gnawed off her favorite piece furniture. That's always special.
I've had to cancel the newspaper because of Sophie. I've lost at least 10 decent pair of gotch and several shoes. And there have been an embarrassing few moments when she deposits my bra on the feet of company (another speciality of hers).
If she were a bit bigger, we would rent her out as a paper shredder for an office or she could star in a Wes Craven flick.
We could call the movie Scream! At Sophie!
Now that we have the SodaStreamer, half the battle is won.
Now if I could only train her to pick up the clothes and put them in the basket, my life would be Heaven on Earth, although I'm sure I'd be wearing crotchless panties to the supermarket.

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