Well, I’m up.
I got up early and even brushed m’teeth to go to my trainer, and when I got there, she was just leaving with her two gigantic dogs.
“Oh, you have the wrong day!” she said. “It’s Friday!”
I was all, do I? I mean, you guys know how I am. I know everyone here is placing bets on me being the wrong one. I can see you all hunkered in an alley with your ones.
But I wasn’t! I drove home and let Edsel out, which is a whole thing today because Victor, the lawn guy, sprayed my weeds yesterday and YES I KNOW but you have no idea how overrun I am getting with the weeds. So for 24 hours no cats can go outside [see: Milhous–Mind, Lost] and Edsel has to be closely monitored for, like, licking the hostas or whatever, or else it’s hosta la vista, Edsel.
So that’s annoying. I was just out there with him twice, because he does this thing where he pretends he peed totally for sure all the way but really just makes a show of it but then rushes in and eats [cronch crinch cronch crickle cronch] and then goes BACK out and seriously pees and drops Mrs. Brown off at the greens.
Both times I went out to bathroom with the Eds, Milhous was at the door with giant eyes. “U NOT UNNERSTAN. MILL HAVE STANDING ENGAGEMINT.”
The way I get him to not dash out the door is I pound on it like I’m a visitor and he has fallen for that every time so far. (I had to go out a THIRD time when Mil angrily dropped Mrs. Hugh Log off at the sandbox just to express his disdain for this whole morning indoors indignity.)
Lily and Iris don’t care.
The point is, and there is a point, after all that in and outing, I came here to blog because all of a sudden I have all this time to do so this morning, and there was a text from said trainer. “Oh my god, you were RIGHT!” she wrote. My appointment really had been for today.
I guess this means I get to point out her typo with “and” instead of “on.” You know what’s gonna happen? She’s gonna KICK MY ASS across her torture floor tomorrow. She’s gonna make me get up on that giant half mound that looks like I’m standing on a blemish.
Anyway now I have all this time on my hands and I assure you I will still find some way to not get to work at 8 on the dot this morning.
I never had a chance to call the vet about Iris yesterday, and if you’d had the kind of day I had, you wouldn’t have, either. I volunteered to take some extra work on that needed to be done and as soon as I did that, 75 other things came at me and the whole day was ridic.
At lunch, they fed us, which threw me off. Usually I go home at lunch and take care of my errands then. But yesterday they gave us free barbecue.
“How many sandwiches did you eat?” asked Griff after.
“Well. One. …Why?” I asked. Because who eats more than one BBQ sandwich? Jethro Bodean?
“I had one, but then I had meat on the side,” he announced.
“So, you had a barbecue sandwich with barbecue on the side?”
When my day finally ended, I got to my car and noticed the only people left at work were me and Wedding Alex, and our cars were fornicating. Mine was buggering hers, and it’s like when someone is an Irish setter/Chihuahua mix. “We’re such hard workers” I texted her, all smug.
She and I keep SAYING we’re going to do a podcast and then she does things like go to Greece for work.
Seriously. Greece is the word. Once she stops working so hard, maybe we can have a podcast about nothing. She also has a whole embroidery or needlepoint or what’s the difference thing on the side, and I really don’t get undepressed people who embrace life. I really don’t. Isn’t it enough that you got up and put on pants five times a week?
Meanwhile, June says, embracing life, The Poet and I were supposed to go to Gordon Lightfoot tomorrow night, but apparently he didn’t take care when he was creeping ’round his back stairs, because he tripped and hurt himself and postponed till November.
“I guess he’s ironically named Lightfoot at this point,” I said, and then put a picture of myself on Instagram captioned with “This guy” and emoji hearts next to it.
I plan to never love anyone again unless it has a tail, but if I am ever stupid enough to love a goddamn human, I assure you there will be no “This guy” caption, ever.
I guess I’d better get in the shower even though had things worked out with my trainer I’d still be driving home sweatily right now. Still, it’ll be nice to not rush. I am toying with wetting hair and starting over again today because I am not a fan of the new cheap gel I bought that makes me look like Garth of Wayne and, but when I wet said hair, my hair is literally damp till noon and who wants to look at me in that predicament?
What I really covet is that $6,000 hair dryer with the ions or whatever but I will never bring myself to purchase it.
Ohmygod, maybe I can write the good people of Dyson and tell them that tens of people read me and if they sent me a free one they’d be sure to sell, like, one to someone somewhere. Look at it! IT HAS A PALE ROSE CASE!
Anyway, I’m off. With my bad hair and my angry cat and my successful friends and Gordon Lightfoot standing me up.