I put away my label maker in a very safe location. Unfortunately, I did not label that spot.
Dan: “Why does my car smell like dog shit?”
Me: “Oh crap. (Paused to see if he got the pun. He was not amused.) That’s totally not my fault.”
Me: “Well, I took Ziggy the Dog to Erin’s summer camp drop-off with me yesterday. And he pooped on the way into the school. I cleaned it up, of course–thank goodness I thought to bring a bag—but there were no garbage cans so I had to bring it back home with me. But Colin didn’t want it in the car with him so I put it in the trunk and…”
Dan (rudely interrupting me): “And you forgot it…”
Me: “Well, I asked Colin to help me remember to take it out…”
Dan: “So it’s Colin’s fault that it sat in the hot sun all day and then overnight.”
Me: “Yes. It’s Colin’s fault. Or you can blame Ziggy the Dog. It was his poop.”
It’s all fun and games until you drop the champagne bottle (while pouring), and it smashes down on the champagne glass, which then breaks and spills champagne and shards of glass all over the table and the floor.
Yeah, then it’s not fun anymore.
Dude. I’m in a really foul mood this week. Everything is just bugging the shit out of me. It started out with just a small incident that I tried to downplay by comparing said small incident to much larger incidents. But this backfired and then blew up into a “That Was Nothing—You Know What Pisses Me Off EVEN MORE?!” debate. That I had with myself. Out loud.
Here is my competing list today:
- Mistaking a dog treat for a human treat because you’re too distracted to realize what you’re doing. Until after you chew.
- Dog farts in a small room that smell so bad you can taste them.
- Dog dingleberries that end up as shitprints all over the carpet. (I’ll post pictures later.)
- Having to change your clothes after spilling the dirty puke water from the steam cleaner all over yourself. (And having to re-clean the carpet.)
- Your favorite bra breaking when changing your clothes because you were so pissed off that you took your bra off at the same time as your shirt and the strap snaps off. How does that even happen?
- Mother-in-Laws who like to point out that your breasts are smaller than theirs and that you must need a really small bra. And you can’t think of a good come-back because you’re too stunned. I mean, REALLY?!
In other news, I just got my period.
I went out to a fancy shin-dig this weekend. I wore an appropriately fancy dress which really didn’t match my glasses—so I put in contacts instead of wearing said glasses. Here’s the problem: the last two times I have worn my contacts, I have woken up in the middle of the night—very suddenly and horror-stricken—because I had forgotten to take the contacts out. And, by that point, my eyelids were sticking together like melting gummy bears. (I’m intimately familiar with melting gummy bears–that’s a whole different story.)
So I got smart this time. While I was putting my contacts in, I called Erin over to make me a little reminder note for my bathroom mirror. She was slightly confused, but ever the cooperative child, she complied. Lo and behold, it worked! Even though I had consumed
an entire bottle a couple of glasses of wine, I remembered to take my contacts out at the end of the night. #oldpeoplewinning