There have been a few times this week when I have seen people experience not their finest moment. I think perhaps that full moon last week is playing havoc with their senses. I personally am keeping my head down and my bum up as I have no choice in order to meet various deadlines and not get myself fired from gainful employment.
In the spirit of remaining in the workforce I stayed on at work yesterday for an additional hour and picked up Miss13 from the bus stop. Miss17 had scored a ride home with a friend, recently in possession of her P’s and had managed to arrive home about 3 minutes before us, accessing the house from the back door and launching immediately into the kitchen.
This is relevant because when Miss13 jumped from my vehicle and ran inside to hug Koda her olfactory senses immediately sensed danger and she went further into the house to investigate. From my car I heard hysterical screaming of the shit nature. I seriously could not believe this because in the almost three years we have had him, Koda has NEVER, even as a puppy, pooped in the house.
It goes without saying that both Miss13 and Miss17 were rendered useless – flapping their hands with gay abandon and not even considering grabbing a spray/kitchen towel/plastic bag to begin the industrial clean up.
This was a job for a girl who has handled such situations
like never previously. I watch many crime shows so I know what is needed in these instances. I gloved up, blocked my nostrils and got to work. Even after I had finished, the house smelled like death. So we opened every door and window and I lit one of those rose candles from Ikea that has taken up residence in a cupboard for the past 5 years and was now the hero of the day.
As a courtesy I called The Artist to let him know of the ordeal I had experienced – he was none to pleased about that extra hour I had spent working that he thought might have resulted in Koda’s explosive bowel movement. This was refuted an hour later by the vet who called The Artist to say that from Koda’s routine blood tests yesterday he could see the dog was carrying a virus and was he okay? Way to go asshole – you couldn’t have called earlier?
The Artist returned home and proceeded to disrespect my clean up efforts. Apparently I had missed a smudge, hence the lingering smell. He then proceeded to smell the floor and tried to get me to do the same but I was having none of it I tell you. He dispatched himself to the shops and returned armed to clean up a murder.
Absolved of responsibility I took myself to bed and watched Chicago PD and confirmed to myself that yes, indeed, we had enough product in the house to make any serial killer proud.
Love and light