Mortaine’s Blog

I slept hard last night. So hard, in fact, that I let Hammer out sometime this morning, laid back down, and woke up some time later (it was dark when I let him out, barely-light when I woke up again) and let him back in. I felt so bad– I didn’t mean to fall asleep! I’m going to look into outting a little sensor next to the door to ring a bell inside or turn on a light so I’ll know when he’s back at the door and ready to come back inside.

I slept hard and dreamed much. Like, waaay much. Every time I closed my eyes, the movie theatre that is my brain rolled film again.

Unrelated: I saw Bubba Ho-Tep last night. Greatest movie of last year– it was really, really good and funny without being overly campy.

This morning (after hitting Snooze three times), I got up and got dressed, checked email and such, as usual. Had breakfast, fed the pets. John left for work early, so I took the dog for a short potty walk before I left.

That was where things started to go Terribly, Terribly Wrong.

Hammer pooped just before coming in, so I let him into the house and went back out to clean it up. Put it in the garbage in the backyard. Got my lunch (leftovers) and got in the car and left.

*sniff sniff* Why does it still smell like dog poop? Oh, yes. Indeed. I, who normally seem to glide right over the stuff and never get it on my shoes, have stepped in It, big time. And have now tracked it into my beautiful, although admittedly not-very-clean-right-now car.

Eewww!

So, I get to work, get out, go to the trunk and get out the wipes (yes, I have 3 types of car wash wipes in my trunk). I wipe down my shoe. I wipe the floor rug. I ball the little rags up for disposal and set them down to collect my other stuff.

I get the takeout box out of the front seat. It tips, spilling sauce onto the floor.

FUCK!

I get more wipes out of the trunk, hitting my head on the trunk lid while I’m reaching for the wipes. FUCK!

I wipe down the other floor rug, seat, etc. Mindful that my hands are less-than-clean since I’ve already cleaned dog crap and haven’t had a chance to wash them.

And there’s an ant on the floor of my car.

An ant on the floor of my car, directly underneath the leftovers box (which I’d set on the table next to the front door), is a good indicator that it hitch-hiked in from the living room (where we have an Ant Problem that hasn’t been resolved yet). So, I curse some more and open my leftovers box to make sure there are no ants. A cursory glance and I decide, no ants.

Grab my things and leftovers, pick up the dirty wipes and close the car door. At one point, I was trying to balance the leftovers against my torso, but quickly realized that they were just going to leak tomato sauce onto my shirt (which is, of course, white, though this one has stripes on it), and held it out, away from my body. I must have looked a sight, walking in, dragging my left foot against the wet grass in hopes of getting the last of the poop off of the heel, holding a little bundle of dirty wipes away from my body with one hand, and a white styrofoam container of leftovers away from my body with the other hand. I used my third hand to open the office door, by the way.

Anyway, I got into work and apparently everyone else at work decided to bring lunch today too, so I had to shove things around to find space in the fridges. But I did, so now I have my lunch in a fridge, my hands are clean, I refuse to think about my shoes, and all is mostly-ok with the universe.