Thank goodness for the extra-large Swiffer wet-sweeper. My floors aren't sanitized but at least when the sun hits them, you don't see rings on the floor where the dogs have leaked.
I think that Sweety told me a lie by saying that his dad was going to be here today. I think it was a ploy to get me to clean the house. The house isn't as clean as I'd like it but my case of "don'tgiveafuck-itis" is very strong. I'm looking at the top of the coffee table and it needs to be polished but I don't know if I'll do it. Maybe I'll just keep the lights dim in the house and they won't see the dust and disarray.
Someday, when Stinky Dog goes to dog heaven, I'll be really sad. But if you were to weigh my sadness and the relief that I will have at not needing to sweep up another ginormous dog hair ball or wipe up a drool spot, the relief will probably weigh more. She's a fine dog but damn, she is high maintenance. (Sweety would say, "Just like her Mama.")
Hey! If you ever have surgery and something is being removed, ask the doctor if you can have it and send it to me. I like seeing things that belong on our inside. A friend of mine had two bone spurs taken off her foot and the doctor was kind enough to put them in a little bottle of formaldehyde.
When Tiny Dog looks at me all lovingly, I imagine that she is yearning to tell me something in Italian. I know she doesn't know Italian (She speaks English with a high pitched Spanish accent. And sometimes it's a British accent. Depends on her mood.) but the watery, sad look in her eyes makes me think that maybe she does.
Ah, the sweet sound of the neighbor's dog barking incessantly and the neighbor yelling at it to shut up. Such sweet autumn music. Poor dog. It's a terrier and it spends all day long tied up outside and when it gets dark he goes in a crate in a garage.
Sweety is home! Gotta go look busy!