Saturday, January 24, 2015

I've Said It Before...

...and no doubt I'll say it again before all is said and done:  Sometimes it's just exhausting being me.

Thursday morning Max jumped off the bed and sprained his foot.  I actually hoped to make it one bloody damn week without going to the vet. HA!  He's okay, though limping and miserable, but at least it's not a serious injury.  Then, Thursday night Ozzy had me in and out of bed all night long needing to go outside because he had diarrhea.  No rhyme or reason, nothing different in his diet, just one big mystery.

So I could barely get out of bed yesterday morning--lack of sleep tends to do that to me--but dogs still need to go out, food needs to be eaten, walks need to be taken.  Then, because the gods weren't done toying with me, I was carrying an armload of bedding downstairs to the laundry room, caught my foot in the dangling corner of a sheet and pitched forward, heading straight to my doom, when I somehow managed to break my fall by hurling myself into the wall on the landing.  Good save...except for the elbow slam and now the truly spectacular bruise.

Early evening, hour or so before dinner, I poured myself a nice, big glass of wine, finally ready to relax and cruise into the weekend.  I set the glass on the end table, turned to reach for my Kindle just as Ozzy jumped into the chair. The Kindle conked him in the head, he yelped, tried to jump over the table and knocked into the glass, spilling my Lambrusco (a nice dark red) all over my beige carpet.

An hour and at least a dozen rags and towels later, plus two kinds of carpet cleaner, and I'm pretty sure I've gotten the stains out.  Except night has fallen and even with all the lights on in the living room, I can't be absolutely positive that I found every splash and drip.  And now the dogs want dinner and I have another load of laundry to do.

Tired, bruised and cranky, I did the only thing I could: I switched from wine to whiskey.


P.S.  I did not, in fact, get all the wine stains out after all.  I spent another hour this morning while the sun blazed through the windows, showing me just exactly how much I'd missed.  Good thing I washed all those rags and towels last night...they came in handy today.  Sigh


  1. My sister, who converted to Catholicism because of her husband, once told my daughter, who had a primarily Catholic upbringing from her mother's family despite her father's heresy, that the whiskey in the eggnog they were drinking and that I was having neat, was, in fact "corn-wine", and, in fact, we were all sharing communion. I love my sister.

    So, see, you technically had wine last night...

    1. Corn-wine and communion...that's really good. And I bet corn-wine doesn't stain like that other stuff... ;D