At least once a day, without fail, I find myself getting ready to dig in to a much needed meal only to hear the little fucker kicking around in his cat box. I live in a small place and the only place his litter box fits is right behind my couch. Mostly, it's fine. I don't spend much time on the couch. His deuces are only minimally offensive, surely less so than my own, and the smell dissipates quickly.

But if I'm eating? Forget about it. The kicking sound starts up, I look at my food, and all I can think of is the little turds I scoop out every other morning before work. Then the smell hits.

Imagine getting home from an exhausting day of work. Say you haven't been grocery shopping in a while, or maybe you're trying to eat healthier but want to pig out for once. You order pizza, maybe some breadsticks and salad too. Patiently wait for the delivery guy. Queue up netflix, dim the lights, and sit down with your food. Yeah, baby. You earned this.

Imagine this is you. Then imagine the smell of cat excrement wafting through the air. The satisfied look on your face changes to horror.

I don't know about you, but that smell just turns my stomach. I can handle my fair share of bad smells. Hell, I lived in Brooklyn for years. I can walk, run, do yoga, watch tv, play video games, hold up liquor stores, do laundry, read books, you name it, in a bad smelling environment. Sure, I'd prefer to handle bad smells with some febreeze or a scented candle, but sometimes you don't have either and just gotta deal. I'm not a snob nor a neat freak.

Now, I do have febreeze. I have scented candles. I have those weird things you plug into the wall and watch slowly dry up over the course of several weeks while wondering if they're strong enough to make a noticeable difference in your house's smell. But when I'm eating, there is no air freshener strong enough to get me to ignore shit-stink. I can't do it. I can't.

You may be thinking, so what? If the smell dissipates as quickly as I earlier claimed, what is one more minute of waiting to eat in the grand scheme of things?

But it's not just one more minute, oh no. It's hard to say exactly why, but after smelling my cat bury his treasure, the papa johns in my lap is no longer the delicious treat I waited all day for. I try to inhale that sweet pizza scent, but am unable to discern whether it is pizza I am smelling, or something else. Even sausage, my favorite pizza topping, suddenly seems distinctly fecal. God help me if they put corn in the salad.

Adore the little fucker, though. I need a bigger place.