I mean it. What. The. Hell?
Have I offended a stereotypical Hollywood Old Gypsy Woman and been cursed or something? Has God decided that, while I don't deserve a full-on smiting, a Plague of Urine will cause me to mend my wicked ways? Is there some astrological configuration causing this affliction (Mercury is Retrograde and Venus is in the House of Piss, or something)?
Seriously. Firstborn woke up - and woke me up - at four o'clock this morning. Since he obviously wasn't going back to sleep, I took him out to the living room and put on a video. Somewhere around six-thirty, he managed to urinate on the couch despite wearing pull-ups. One couch cushion and one regular pillow needed to be washed as a result. Also one small boy (who appears to be a conscientious objector when it comes to potty training).
This is on top of the cats, who - probably feeling unsettled and territorial because of the arrival of Secondborn - have been spraying all over the firk ding blast house, which now smells strongly of cat urine in some very unlikely areas.
Then Firstborn, who had been playing on the Sesame Street website so that I could take a much-need and discouragingly-belated shower about an hour ago, manages to poop in his underpants, and piss all over my computer chair. He doesn't bother to tell me about this until I get out of the shower and come to see how he's doing, presumably in order to make sure his urine has a good chance to soak in.
Now the drain basket on one side of the kitchen sink has broken, causing the sink to pee all over the cabinet underneath. I can fix it - pretty easily, in fact - but I sooooo did not need this.
Once I've finished changing the cat litter, I'll have to go outside to get in my car so I can pick up a replacement part for the sink. If it starts raining urine the moment I walk outside, I honestly won't be surprised. This is just exactly that sort of day.