Last Sunday, while on my way to work, Sweety called to let me know that Stinky Dog had an attack of explosive poop on the living room carpet. We think the leftover meatloaf that I gave her for the dinner the night before did it. I wondered why Sweety was calling to tell me. Part of me hoped that he would be so sickened by the mess and the prospect of cleaning it that he would tell me to quit my job so I could come home and clean up dog shit but he did not. Phooey. Shortly after Stinky used our carpet as a latrine, Sweety's dad and stepmother showed up. Whenever his dad is at our house he has things to say about how dogs are good for nothing and shouldn't be inside and he has to come over while the house smells like Stinky's large intestine. Isn't that about right? They didn't stay long because the boys weren't at our house the past weekend so they are coming back this weekend. I must get the house clean today but I just want to crawl in a hole somewhere and hide. I'm feeling very unmotivated. Less so than usual. I did some soul-searching this morning to see if I wanted out of my marriage because if I did, today would be the perfect day to leave. Before I have to clean the house. But other than the dusty, disorganized house - I'm pretty happy with my relationship so I guess I'll stay and clean my surroundings.
Heh, speaking of quitting my job - I scared the hell out of Sweety on Monday night. We were really slow at work towards the end of my shift, so they let some of us go home early. This is something that hardly ever happens. Before I came home, I went to the grocery store and picked up a few things. When I walked in the kitchen door, toting a plastic sack full of things, Sweety looked stricken. He asks why I'm home so early but I didn't say anything, just turned around and put the sack on the counter. He says, "Oh shit, you finally quit your job." I couldn't speak because the urge to laugh was so great. I gripped him in a bear hug and was laughing so hard that he thought I was crying. Crying I guess from the stress of worrying about how he was going to handle me quitting my job. This went on for a several minutes with him telling me that I needed to get my butt back in my car and get my job back because he wasn't ready to remortgage the house. I was laughing so hard that I was crying and gasping and every now and then I'd turn my head up so he could see my tear-streaked face and I'd say that I was sorry. I finally told him that I was just home early and the color returned to his face. Heh, heh. I like freaking him the fuck out every now and then. If I'd have thought about it, I'd have actually brought some of my stuff home from work and drug the ordeal out even longer for him.
You know, I used to think that it wasn't fair to not let smokers smoke in public but as I sat in my car behind someone who was busy flicking their ashes out the window, breathing in their exhalations, I changed my mind. (I should get an award for The Most Awkwardly Phrased Sentence Ever for that one.)