Kim asks WHERE THE BLOG IS, so you get A STORY I ALREADY DONE TOLD HER.
So, Sunday. I left work, and, having some extra money for the first time in months, treated myself to dinner. I also spent this time converting a Hillary supporter to Obama, so it was not IDLE TIME. No no, I was feeling good about my Sunday night.
Until I got home.
Oh, when I got home.
I discovered Jackson had diarrhea. All over the carpet. And just for fun, Cheshire joined in with some hair balls.
Now, I am mad, but I can not be mad at them. They are dumb animals that know no better. Though I wish they had given me a sign, as I would have stayed home from work.
Anyway, I take Jackson outside to go potty, and I grab a bottle of wine from my car, purchased earlier. He does his bidness, and we go to go in.
Excapt my key breaks.
My key to the building.
Breaks in half.
So I go around to the back door, which is always open.
Except someone fixed it.
And now it is locked.
And while I am pulling, Jackson yanks me in the other direction and the bottle of wine drops on MY TOE and the THE GROUND and shatters.
I hobble around to the front and ring my neighbor, who is kind enough to let me and Jackson in.
So fine. We go upstairs and I start to clean the carpet. Only I run out of carpet cleaner. So I grab Lysol. Which would be fine, but I have Lysol with bleach. So now I have bleach stains on my carpet.
FUCK THIS, I decide. Fuck this indeed. I go potty, flush the toilet, and go to the bedroom to put on my pajamas.
When I hear behind me…
I hear…
Water.
SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH.
The toilet backed up all over and flooded the bathroom floor.
I laid down and cried until it was over, and The Dream Lord mopped it all up.
Man, fuck that day.
