Holiday Bonus

I owe my cleaning lady.  BIG TIME.

I love the day that she comes.  My place looks and smells amazing!  I love being in it.  I don't want to leave.  I just want to lay around in it's cleanliness and enjoy the serenity that comes with a combination of pine-sol, windex, spic'n span, elbow grease and pledge.  Eau de Peace & Calm.

I just want to lounge on my comfy couch in my comfy post-work wear.  aka pajamas.  I want to inhale clean air and not see a spec of dust anywhere.  I want Eau de Peace & Calm to permeate my clothes, hair and self.  It is Heavenly.

For her visit last week I had left a Holiday Bonus in her check.  An extra show of thanks.

Usually she texts me when she leaves.  I was actually very much looking forward to getting her text all day because the cleanliness of my place would radiate the peace and calm through the cellular network.  And, I would feel so much more at ease knowing that I was going home to a clean, organized and smelling-good house.  Not the tornadic disaster I had left earlier that day.

The text arrived.  She thanked me for the Holiday Bonus and mentioned that she really appreciated it.  Warm and fuzzy feelings washed over me.  Eau de Peace & Calm was radiating from my inner self..

Then she sent another text.

"Sam 'got sick' in his cage.  The towel is now in the hall.  Put new towels in the kennel.  Cleaned him up.  Hope that was okay".

I had to read the text twice.  To make sure it really said that Sam got sick in his cage.  Of course he did.  On the day that I didn't go home at lunch.  And, the day that my cleaning angel came.

So much for a holiday bonus.  That was like prepayment for the bonus she was getting straight from Sam's intestines.   Eau de Puke and Stench.

Naked People

There are many different types of people in the world.  Skinny, Tall,  Brown-Haired, Muscular, Chunky, Blue-Eyed, Petite..I could go on. 

There are also two very distinctive people - Naked People and Not Naked People.

The Naked Cowboy likely only wears underwear to avoid the NYC slammer.  He has made good money off of his nakedness.  Clearly he is a Naked Person.  Probably everyday.  Probably all of the time.

I am a Not Naked Person. I don't walk around the house naked. I don't dry my hair naked. Nothing. I did not grow up in a Naked House. We wore clothes. Always. I don't have anything against Naked People. I am just not one of them. So, their nakedness is sometimes surprising.

I dated a Naked Person once.  I found him sitting naked on the couch and felt so bad for every other person who would ever sit on that couch again. Yuck! This happened a few times and every time I was like 'put some freaking shorts on'...Sheesh. 

I also had a Naked Person as a roommate.  One night our home phone started screaming at 2am.  We were in our 20's.  This was not abnormal.  We both came running out of our rooms. I, clothed head to toe, in yoga pants, a long sleeve shirt and a sweatshirt.  It was winter.  She, on the other hand, was naked.  Totally naked. Not even jewelry naked. We stared at the phone, looked at each other, laughed and went back to our respective Not Naked and Naked Rooms.

You are either a Naked Person or a Not Naked Person.  There is no in-between.  The Naked Ex sometimes also cooked naked.  Breakfast.  Really.  Nothing like a full moon when you walk into the kitchen on a Sunday morning.

one of those days

I am cranky.

I was supposed to have dinner with a friend and I graciously turned down the invitation when I realized it was going to be just one of those days.

My afternoon hasn't helped. In fact it's made it worse.

I opened the front door and was overwhelmed with a smell.  A smell that you know immediately.  It's the smell of dog poop.

Sam was in his kennel.  I had been running around this morning.  I checked the spot that he occasionally mistakes for the backyard. Thinking perhaps he snuck in a potty break before I left.  No poop.

I walked into the room where his kennel sits.  Poop.  Everywhere around the kennel.  Little black poops.  Poop smeared on the bed in the kennel.  Poop probably on Sam.  And, there he is.  In the corner waiting to be let out of the kennel so he can get away from the poop he put there.

I clean the poop up.  Touch some poop with my hand.  Wash my hands.  5 times.

I go to put some things away and knock a plate off of the counter.  The plate shatters.  I cuss.

I get the broom and dustpan and start sweeping up shards of plate.  There are plate pieces in the kitchen.  Under the shelves.  In Sam's water bowl.  There is plate in the dining room.  Under the table and a few of the chairs.  Plate made its way to where the poop was.

Then I can't find the dustpan.  Anywhere.  I look on every surface.  I look in the hall where the broom lives.  3 times.  I look on each chair. I look on the table, the counter, in the freezer.  At this point who knows.  I walk in circles looking for that darn dustpan.  Where the heck is it?

Tony, Tony turn around.  Something's lost and must be found.

Please Meet Sam, the dog, formerly known as Prince

when Sam was a little pup..

This is the sweetness I call Sam.  I adopted him from a local shelter several years ago.  His name was Prince when I met him.  To me Prince should be a bad-to-the-bone bulldog or Pit.  Or, a little, tiny, pocket puppy!   So, since I was adopting him there was an immediate name change. His official name: Sam, the dog, formerly known as Prince.  Sam, Sammers, Sammydog, Dogathon or Puppy for short.

Sam and I have many good times. I love when he snuggles, tosses his toys around for himself or morphs into Rocket Dog and blasts through the yard in circles.  Laugh out loud funny. Every time he does it.  We've also had a few bad times.  Like when he ate my Gucci horsebit sunglasses or chewed the corners off of 7, yes SEVEN, comforters.  This was when he was a puppy.  I guess he had a thing for stuffing.  Or when he stayed at my friends house when I was out of town and ate the baby Jesus from the nativity. Or, maybe it was Joseph?  Or, a wise men?  Whatever. 

Sam makes me laugh every day.  Sometimes he makes me scream.  Like yesterday.   But he doesn't understand when I yell F&*K!!!!!!!!!!!!!  SAM !!!!!!!!!!!!  He probably thinks I yelled  PARK!!!!!!!!!!!!  SAM!!!!!!!!!!!!! So he wags his tail and smiles at me.  And, I want to scream.

Why?  Well...I found some kind of brown smudge on the B R A N D  N E W slipcover for the chair cushion.  Literally not even 24 hours old. Just ironed and steamed and updated yesterday. I stared down the smudge hoping it would disappear. And, this is what goes through my mind...

Chocolate..did he eat chocolate!?! Oh, no!!!   But how could he have gotten chocolate?  Chocolate kills dogs.. Mud?? ..more likely than chocolate.  But, he wasn't in the mud?  There is no mud. Plus he was only outside long enough to lift his leg and take a few deep bunny-sniffing dog breaths.

Dog poop????   Oh My Gawd....It's dog poop!!!! I am sure of it.  Poop on my brand new slipcover! Are you kidding me???? How on earth did Sam get poop on the chair?!?!?  It can't be dog poop, it has to be chocolate!!! 

But, the dog-mother sniff-test confirmed...it was indeed poop! Dog! Poop!

You see Sam likes to sit on the back of the chair and daydream out the window.  So instead of just watching squirrels to pass the time I guess he rubbed some poop on my chair.  Awesome.
 

Steroids..not just for MVP's

Steroids work miracles.  I was sick earlier this week and a shot of steroids helped me wake up the next day full of energy, ready to go and no longer sounding like I had a 3 pack-a-day habit. Granted my bum felt like I was kicked by a horse, but I could breathe, I sounded like me, I. Felt. Better.  Good enough to go to the Cards game and watch them smoke the Giants.  Hopefully we'll see more of that tonight in San Francisco.

Now I am taking 60 mg of steroids in 6 pill-a-day fashion to help keep me breathing cleanly and to eliminate the upper respiratory infection I had.  Past Tense. It is going, going...gone!  Kind of like all of the homeruns hit during the steroid era of baseball. 

Now granted these are two very different types of steroids, right?  I am not trying to get stronger or bulk up like an All-Star.  Although, I think I could put away a bag of chips in seconds because I want to eat everything in sight.  And, I am experiencing crazy amounts of energy.

So I updated my living room...I had ordered new Crate & Barrel slip covers for my couch and chair and they F I N A L L Y arrived.  So I spent yesterday evening steaming, ironing, eating, straightening, steaming, ironing, straightening and eating.

Here's the 'new' chair.  Thank you Crate & Barrel.  Now if only I could have sat still long enough to enjoy the comfy newness of it.  Instead I started laundry and had some cookies.