around the house · drunked and drunkeder · pesty pets

a typical sunday…abstinence is for assholes

7:26 AM: Realize that the wet drip, drip drip on my face is not in fact the result of fantabulously-hot-dream-guy’s unrestrainble passion for me, but instead the slimy output of my dog’s panting tongue. He’s staring soulfully into my eyes in a mute attempt to warn me that if I don’t get up ASAP I run the immediate risk of stepping in a puddle of pee right outside my bedroom door. In case I missed that hint, he then places one large paw on my head, and a toe goes in my eye.

7:30 AM: Decide that getting up and out of bed is a cheap price to pay in return for having pee-free floors (and feet). Heave self out of bed and grope for rob to spare neighbors sight of my unclad booty through my pitifully inadequate shades. Breathe sigh of relief that the dog as yet has not relived himself on said robe (as happened last week). Spend 2 mins searching for glasses, which I seem to have put somewhere that should have been easy to find, but was not, in my alcohol-induced haze of 2:00 AM last night/this morning. I love drinking.

7:30 – 7:45 AM: Decide that perhaps my spare pack of cigarettes may indeed be in my car and now is the time to check. Shuffle outside in bare feet with random hair-tufts flying, safely ensconced in oversize terry bathrobe (with darth-vader-type hood, even) to see if they are indeed in there. No luck, although I think I flashed my neighbor while trying in vain to see under the seats. Meanwhile, dog is proceeding to make wrecking-ball sized feet as muddy as possible in preparation for re-entry to the living space. I decide not to deny him his fun and let him back inside the house. Narrowly block cat’s escape attempt while dog is heaving himself up the stairs. Score one for pet owner.

7:50 AM: Schlep back into living room to discover that dog’s favorite stuffed animal has been eviscerated all over my couch. Spend 10 minutes cleaning up pea-sized pieces of white fluff from all parts of living room. Debate staying awake, then slap myself silly and go back to bed.

9:05 AM: Wake once again to dog slobber. Realize that I also have to pee. Once more heave myself up, although cleverly I had fallen back asleep in my robe and therefore can skip the robe hunt, go let the dog out AGAIN, visit the facilities, and go back to bed.

10:35 AM: Give it up as a lost cause. Get out of bed to realize that I actually have a hangover. Down two Aleves and a bottle of water.

11:24 AM: In the midst of Trading Spaces, decide to check phone to see who I called last night in the aforementioned alcohol-induced haze. Two friends and one ex. Oh dear.

3:43 PM: After a marathon of “What Not To Wear” (two of which were reruns, and I have yet to see them make-over a MAN), four potty breaks for the dog, and FAR too many “Shalom in the Home” commercials, I decide that possibly this hangover headache is not actually a hangover headache, but in fact directly related to the fact that I have been lying stationary on my couch all frigging day, with no caffeine whatsoever to sustain me. My blood is probably thinning out. I must be on the brink of expiration. Locate clean jeans, oversize shirt and hoodie (meanwhile thinking what fun Stacy and Clinton would have with my wardrobe), find shoes that have not been chewed to death, and clean socks. Get dog into car, minus safety towel in case he pukes, and head to local Starbucks drive-through.

3:50 PM: Note that the to-go cocktail beverages from last-night’s excursion are still in cup holder, and there will be nowhere to put much-needed caffeine beverage. Successfully roll down window, dump drinks out window, while simultaneously fending dog off lap, changing radio station, driving stick shift, and answering cell phone text message. I am such a good driver.

3:59 PM: Starbucks lady offers me whipped cream as a treat for my dog, who is shamelessy making puppy eyes at her. Having never heard of giving a dog whipped cream for a treat, I am reasonably certain that it could lead to nothing good for my trusty companion, so I settle for water instead. Into which the aforementioned Starbucks lady puts ice. Because obviously my dog needs nice cold water? As any smart dog would, he refuses to drink it. Too cold, I’m sure.

4:06 PM: Dog is telepathically telling me that he would like to go to the park to socialize and scare the ducks. Mindful of the fact that I did not bring safety towel to catch vomit, and considering that he might actually puke OUTSIDE the car for once, I agree to stop at the park.

4:46 PM: after many circles and sniffing and getting the leash wrapped around the legs, out view of the lake is spoiled by two stoner-looking dudes who come along to our remote corner of the park and stand right at the edge of the water, directly in the line of vision, and stand there. They have a Frisbee but are not putting it to use, as Rockefeller (the dog) clearly is hoping.

4:52 PM: Several things happen simultaneously. 1) It starts to rain. I swear. Two dudes look at me because they think I am swearing at them. 2) I receive a text message from distraught friend. 3) While trying to answer said text message, get interrupted by 4) text message from ex that I called last night. (Message: “saw that u called, loud music defeats my phone. Good to c u last night”. I spend several minutes thinking of a response, and am rudely interrupted when 5) Dog takes off, jerking hand with leash, spilling coffee and causing phone to fly out of my hand. I curse again but this time dudes don’t hear. 6) Now have cigarette and phone in one hand, retrieved caffeine beverage in another hand, trying to pull hood up, keep a hold of dog, and avoid getting run over my two maniacal kiddies on big wheels. Decide it’s time to go. 7) In the midst of my second attempt to respond to initial distraught friend text message, get another message from friend. Now have 3 versions saved to drafts. 8) Try again, when phone rings. Now have crazy dog, crazy kids, coffee & leash in one hand and cig in the other, with phone squeezed between ear and shoulder. Actually I’m relieved because my fingers hurt from texting. I make it back to car, get dog inside, drive home.

5:13 PM: Decide I never should have left home in the first place, parks and kids are overrated. So are people that don’t like my dog. Fall asleep on couch, with dog draped comfortably on my feet. Just before dropping off, cat decides to curl up on my neck right under my chin. Long tufty cat hairs up the nose…what a treat. Ahhhh.a day in the life of a pet owner.

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