It was a Saturday night last summer and we had just moved into our new house. The DemonSpawn are watching a movie in the living room and the hubby and I are in our bedroom playing PS2 waiting for our turn with the TV. It had been a hectic day and being able to chill on my bed, playing a game was really nice. I only had an hour or two before the kids went to bed and I could spark one up. I was feeling good. Relaxed.
We hear one of the DemonSpawn holler from the living room “There’s something wrong with the dog!!”
We come running out of the bedroom to see her projectile crap all over the new off-white carpet at the top of the stairs.
It was awful. Her poor little puppy face was looking at us as if to say, “I’m sick! I’m sorry!” Sarah jumps up to let Shenkah outside. The cat then sneaks out (which is a no-no) so Sarah’s off and running chasing a cat.
The hubby had grabbed a towel and proceeded to start heaving into it which set off a chain reaction. Jade ran into the bathroom to puke, Brody and Dylan (or so I thought) hit the kitchen to use the double sinks.
That left me to clean a 2 foot around spray of liquid dog shit.
I’m on my hands and knees alternately cleaning and gagging and I’m wondering, “Where the fuck is everyone?” It was probably only 5 minutes at the most but it felt as if I was alone, scrubbing and retching for 5 hours. My eyes are watering (to be honest I was kinda crying) and I’m feeling pitiful and neglected… I sob, “Sometimes I hate my life.” I felt as if this was done just to fuck up the rest of my crazy day. What else can go wrong? Is Murphy’s Law so far up my ass I’ll never ever shit it out??
I hear a giggle. Then a laugh. Dylan starts laughing so hard and can’t stop. He’s hiding on the couch amid the cushions and he just keeps saying, “Sometimes… you hate your life.” Laughing. I’m sitting there amid butt vomit trying not to hurl and cry and my son is laughing hysterically at my pain! My stunny look doesn’t leave for a second. I’m slowly registering the scene – almost leaving my body to see the absurdity of the situation. The rest of the DemonSpawn straggle in from their various safe zones, one carrying the elusive Houdini cat, confused as to Dylan’s hysterics on the couch but laughing with him. My hubby comes out of our bathroom with a towel wrapped around his face – looking like a bandit to avoid the stench and that does it for me. I end up laughing along with everyone else.
Now, no matter how bad a situation is, I try to see the humour in it.
It can’t really be as bad as scrubbing runny dog shit out of a new almost white carpet, now can it?