3
Oh Shit
For the record, Mondays and I do not get along. They insist on coming around, I insist on trying to avoid them at all costs, today was no exception.
I need to back up a little bit so that you can really start to appreciate how this day all started. We had a great weekend, busy, not enough time to get everything done- you know the kind. But last night we did a belated turkey dinner and had a good friend come over to share in our 20 pound turkey feast that could have easily fed another 6 people and still have left overs dinner. But I digress.
So we had dinner, and wine, and some more wine, and dessert, and...yup some more wine. Now the sensible folks out there can just stop *tsk, tsking* at me for drinking wine on a Sunday night when I have to work on Monday. Sunday is the PERFECT day for drinking wine! Besides it's better than Vodka on a Sunday- That shit is reserved for Friday and Saturday nights only. Oh and my boss is away this week at a conference so I won't have a metric ton of work to do that requires actual brainpower.
Ok, so I may have had a little bit too much wine. So much so that this morning when the fucking alarm went off, I actually thought my bloody head was going to explode. My body decided that bed was probably the best place for me to stay. However, that responsible adult who likes to stay employed and have a paycheque emerged and I groggily awoke to the man I sleep with's frantic rush around the bedroom trying to get ready for work.
Sadly the poor bugger was running late and his boss is not away this week.
I decided for safety sake, that it was best to stay out his way while he rushed around trying to get ready; so I stayed in bed. Yes, I am that sweet of a wife. Really he's lucky to have me.
As I am 'staying out of his way and not falling back asleep' he pokes his head into the bedroom.
"Babe?"
"ugh..yes."
"I'm sorry but I am running late."
"uh..huh"
"Apparently the dog isn't feeling well."
"Fuck."
"There is shit all over the living room."
" Noooooo. You're not serious."
"umm.... Yes, Sorry I gotta fly."
*hides under the covers* " I love you- but that dog is dead. Doesn't he know that I don't want to get up, this isn't helping."
"Bye." *husband flees house*
By now, I have raised my bones and go and have a look down the hall to the living room. From first glance, I can see no less than twenty- TWENTY little spots in the hallway of the dining room. Upon closer inspection, I see that they form a circle pattern and are also in the kitchen hallway and down the stairs to the back door. Where he is sitting.
Let's just start by saying it's a damn good thing he's cute.
I grab up a roll of paper towel, and arm myself with a plastic bag and carpet cleaner and set out to reclaim my carpet. I lean over the biggest spot to pick it up and am suddenly blasted with an aroma that nearly causes me to hork up whatever is left in my stomach.For the record, a wine hangover and dog shit do not go well together.
Memo to self- do not lean over the spot. One must sit down to avoid direct nasal contact. Easy.
Not. So. Much.
You see I have been fighting with my sciatic nerve and apparently, it decided that sitting or squatting was not a function it was willing to do at 7:30am. So in order to sit properly to actually clean, I had to assume a somewhat reclined position- you know the one that makes you use every single stomach muscle you have or forgot you had. After scooting around avoiding direct contact with the spots, I get the shit cleaned up, but I still have to spray them with the carpet cleaner so that it doesn't stain.
*pumps cleaner, points at spot, a few dribbles come out, holds it completely upright, cleaner starts spraying*
So here I sit in my semi reclined ab workout pose with a damnable spray bottle that will only spray while I hold it straight up and down. Nothing like a good ol' game of shoot the dog shit to start your morning.
By now, my head is really pounding, the abs are screaming, my sciatic is damn near killing me, the smell is causing dry heaves and how does my brain react?
Uncontrollable laughter.
I started laughing because for one half a second I actually contemplated getting the camera and taking a picture of me in my p.j's surrounded by dog shit - to POST HERE!
So, no more wine on Sunday nights- That shit puts weird thoughts in your head!
Yup that's how I started my day.
Here's hoping your Monday wasn't as shitty as mine!
Smooches
I need to back up a little bit so that you can really start to appreciate how this day all started. We had a great weekend, busy, not enough time to get everything done- you know the kind. But last night we did a belated turkey dinner and had a good friend come over to share in our 20 pound turkey feast that could have easily fed another 6 people and still have left overs dinner. But I digress.
So we had dinner, and wine, and some more wine, and dessert, and...yup some more wine. Now the sensible folks out there can just stop *tsk, tsking* at me for drinking wine on a Sunday night when I have to work on Monday. Sunday is the PERFECT day for drinking wine! Besides it's better than Vodka on a Sunday- That shit is reserved for Friday and Saturday nights only. Oh and my boss is away this week at a conference so I won't have a metric ton of work to do that requires actual brainpower.
Ok, so I may have had a little bit too much wine. So much so that this morning when the fucking alarm went off, I actually thought my bloody head was going to explode. My body decided that bed was probably the best place for me to stay. However, that responsible adult who likes to stay employed and have a paycheque emerged and I groggily awoke to the man I sleep with's frantic rush around the bedroom trying to get ready for work.
Sadly the poor bugger was running late and his boss is not away this week.
I decided for safety sake, that it was best to stay out his way while he rushed around trying to get ready; so I stayed in bed. Yes, I am that sweet of a wife. Really he's lucky to have me.
As I am 'staying out of his way and not falling back asleep' he pokes his head into the bedroom.
"Babe?"
"ugh..yes."
"I'm sorry but I am running late."
"uh..huh"
"Apparently the dog isn't feeling well."
"Fuck."
"There is shit all over the living room."
" Noooooo. You're not serious."
"umm.... Yes, Sorry I gotta fly."
*hides under the covers* " I love you- but that dog is dead. Doesn't he know that I don't want to get up, this isn't helping."
"Bye." *husband flees house*
By now, I have raised my bones and go and have a look down the hall to the living room. From first glance, I can see no less than twenty- TWENTY little spots in the hallway of the dining room. Upon closer inspection, I see that they form a circle pattern and are also in the kitchen hallway and down the stairs to the back door. Where he is sitting.
Let's just start by saying it's a damn good thing he's cute.
 |
| The little shitter who has a bad Mommy who likes wine and forgot to let him outside before bed. |
I grab up a roll of paper towel, and arm myself with a plastic bag and carpet cleaner and set out to reclaim my carpet. I lean over the biggest spot to pick it up and am suddenly blasted with an aroma that nearly causes me to hork up whatever is left in my stomach.For the record, a wine hangover and dog shit do not go well together.
Memo to self- do not lean over the spot. One must sit down to avoid direct nasal contact. Easy.
Not. So. Much.
You see I have been fighting with my sciatic nerve and apparently, it decided that sitting or squatting was not a function it was willing to do at 7:30am. So in order to sit properly to actually clean, I had to assume a somewhat reclined position- you know the one that makes you use every single stomach muscle you have or forgot you had. After scooting around avoiding direct contact with the spots, I get the shit cleaned up, but I still have to spray them with the carpet cleaner so that it doesn't stain.
*pumps cleaner, points at spot, a few dribbles come out, holds it completely upright, cleaner starts spraying*
So here I sit in my semi reclined ab workout pose with a damnable spray bottle that will only spray while I hold it straight up and down. Nothing like a good ol' game of shoot the dog shit to start your morning.
By now, my head is really pounding, the abs are screaming, my sciatic is damn near killing me, the smell is causing dry heaves and how does my brain react?
Uncontrollable laughter.
I started laughing because for one half a second I actually contemplated getting the camera and taking a picture of me in my p.j's surrounded by dog shit - to POST HERE!
So, no more wine on Sunday nights- That shit puts weird thoughts in your head!
Yup that's how I started my day.
Here's hoping your Monday wasn't as shitty as mine!
Smooches
