|What I wore: Sweater, H&M. Jeans, Bullhead. Shoes, Forever 21. Earrings, American Eagle.|
Last night, I took the dogs outside for a potty trip. We trekked down the sidewalk and prepared to cross the street. As we approached the edge of the sidewalk, I turned away from the pups to look left, right, then left (like I learned at Safety Town when I was five years old). When I turned back to them, Yoshi was peeing...all over Dobby's back. Really, dog? Really?!
Like any concerned parent, I freaked out and lunged forward to stop the pee attack. This is when I stepped in an enormous, fresh pile of dog poop. My foot slipped out from under me and down I went, into the poopy grass (thanks, neighbors who neglect to pick up after their pets). Thankfully, I didn't hit any more land mines on the way down, so the rest of my body remained poop-free. But I was so stinking irritated. I had no time in my schedule last night for bathing dogs, but I'm not so fond of urine on our couches, either.
We continued down the street and my mind shot off to one of the million things on my plate this week. Dobby finished her business and Yoshi was taking his sweet time (as always), attempting to eat ALL of the grass. Dobby jumped up on my legs and looked at me with those adorable bug eyes, and I bent down to give her snuggles. Annnnd I completely forgot that not 5 minutes before, Yoshi had peed all over her. And now I was rubbing my hands on her. And now there was urine all over my arms.
Yep. Not sad to see you go, Wednesday. Not sad one bit.