WARNING, WARNING, WARNING...THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE WEAK STOMACHS PLEASE BE CAUTIONED. CONTENT OF THIS POST MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR SENSIBILITIES.
One night, not too long ago, I had a sore throat and huge dose of NyQuil rendered me zombified the next morning . Barefoot, I schlepped into the kitchen and stepped squarely into a fairly large pile of what, I thought, was regurgitated dog food (Toby overeats once in a while).
I immediately thought to myself, "This just might make it to BLOG status." Thank God there was an empty baggie setting on the table. I quickly stowed the offended foot in the baggie and made my way to the bathroom by the kitchen (while trying not to step squarely on the foot). I adopted a kind of hop-drag type of gate which drew a playful attack from Toby. He tried to wrest the baggie from my foot and I had to fight him to maintain ownership of the protective cover.
Once there, I stuck the disgusting foot into the toilet and graced it with a "swirly." In fact, it got two! Then I sprayed that miserable extremity, profusely, with lysol and deemed it once again acceptable. From there I raced to my computer and started writing.
Once finished with my intro, I went back to the kitchen and stood there contemplating how to best clean up the disgusting pile of glop. Kit, my cat, nonchalantly strolled by. She stopped, stared blankly at me, turned up her nose, flipped her tail in the air, pointed her backside to me, and strolled off.
Ok, so, when I finally had a plan formulated (that did not include leaving it there until it dried) I armed myself with plastic gloves, throw away wipes, Lysol spray, another baggie, and a face mask. Kit came by again, froze in mid-step, and giving me a wide birth dashed through the room; and hid. She knew by experience that seeing me in such garb was a signal that it was unsafe for anyone to be around.
I guess it could have been worse. I could have found the muck on the floor of one of the many carpeted rooms in the house. But the mental gags going on in my head made it hard to clean up no matter where it was.
This is where I apologize to Toby. You see, it wasn't his mess. Upon closer inspection (much to my chagrin) there was fur and guts (yuck) in the gastronomical gift. (Way to go Kit!) Not only did she leave the nasty carcass of a mouse on my front porch for me to find earlier, but she gifted me with the rest of it a day later.
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| KIT (bird watching) |
I immediately thought to myself, "This just might make it to BLOG status." Thank God there was an empty baggie setting on the table. I quickly stowed the offended foot in the baggie and made my way to the bathroom by the kitchen (while trying not to step squarely on the foot). I adopted a kind of hop-drag type of gate which drew a playful attack from Toby. He tried to wrest the baggie from my foot and I had to fight him to maintain ownership of the protective cover.
Once there, I stuck the disgusting foot into the toilet and graced it with a "swirly." In fact, it got two! Then I sprayed that miserable extremity, profusely, with lysol and deemed it once again acceptable. From there I raced to my computer and started writing.
Once finished with my intro, I went back to the kitchen and stood there contemplating how to best clean up the disgusting pile of glop. Kit, my cat, nonchalantly strolled by. She stopped, stared blankly at me, turned up her nose, flipped her tail in the air, pointed her backside to me, and strolled off.
Ok, so, when I finally had a plan formulated (that did not include leaving it there until it dried) I armed myself with plastic gloves, throw away wipes, Lysol spray, another baggie, and a face mask. Kit came by again, froze in mid-step, and giving me a wide birth dashed through the room; and hid. She knew by experience that seeing me in such garb was a signal that it was unsafe for anyone to be around.
I guess it could have been worse. I could have found the muck on the floor of one of the many carpeted rooms in the house. But the mental gags going on in my head made it hard to clean up no matter where it was.
This is where I apologize to Toby. You see, it wasn't his mess. Upon closer inspection (much to my chagrin) there was fur and guts (yuck) in the gastronomical gift. (Way to go Kit!) Not only did she leave the nasty carcass of a mouse on my front porch for me to find earlier, but she gifted me with the rest of it a day later.
Aren't you glad I elected to forgo the attachment of a (before and after) picture for this entry!
PREVIEWS OF MONDAYS TO COME:
#222-THE PARTY PLANNER
#223-SLOSHED!
#222-THE PARTY PLANNER
#223-SLOSHED!
kt 11/4/2011
