Note to self: Having a YC jar candle lid fall on your head hurts. A lot.
Please refrain from doing it again in the future.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Monday, October 01, 2007
The Last Train to Funkytown
I know. I just combined two song titles. So sue me.
First, this blog is suddenly taking matters into its own hands. It keeps changing the comments section and asking for moderation of comments. Grrr. I change it back, and it gets all fissy. So not going to deal with it right now.
I accidentally left the gate open and Trent got out last night. I was traumatized. It was 9:00 PM, pitch dark and we live near two busy streets. DH was at him mom's house 40 minutes away so I was by myself. Nothing like trying to find a little black dog in the dark. After about fifteen minutes of searching with DH's mag light and strange looks from the neighbors, I spotted him trotting back into our front yard. Coming from the direction of one of the busy streets. He actually came when I called him. I checked him out and he seems to be ok. I got him back inside and promptly locked all the doors (and the gate) so he couldn't give me a second coronary for the night. Then I had to call DH to let him know Trent was OK, as he was having flashbacks to when his last dog got hit by a car. Stupid dog. He's grounded.
Then after all the night's adventures, DH decided to live on the wildside and eat a sandwich with mayo without first checking the expiration date. Yep, it was a few months past Funkytown, so he was up half the night with food poisoning.
You see, this is why I avoid mayo at all costs. I am convinced it's sole purpose is to make people sick. Mayo, get thee away from me. Yeech.
And finally some good news: the co-worker of mine that was on medical leave is coming back. Relief is in sight. I'd do a happy dance except I'm afraid I'd knock over one of the piles of paper surrounding my desk.
I'm here. I'm alive. Trent's OK. DH will be OK.
First, this blog is suddenly taking matters into its own hands. It keeps changing the comments section and asking for moderation of comments. Grrr. I change it back, and it gets all fissy. So not going to deal with it right now.
I accidentally left the gate open and Trent got out last night. I was traumatized. It was 9:00 PM, pitch dark and we live near two busy streets. DH was at him mom's house 40 minutes away so I was by myself. Nothing like trying to find a little black dog in the dark. After about fifteen minutes of searching with DH's mag light and strange looks from the neighbors, I spotted him trotting back into our front yard. Coming from the direction of one of the busy streets. He actually came when I called him. I checked him out and he seems to be ok. I got him back inside and promptly locked all the doors (and the gate) so he couldn't give me a second coronary for the night. Then I had to call DH to let him know Trent was OK, as he was having flashbacks to when his last dog got hit by a car. Stupid dog. He's grounded.
Then after all the night's adventures, DH decided to live on the wildside and eat a sandwich with mayo without first checking the expiration date. Yep, it was a few months past Funkytown, so he was up half the night with food poisoning.
You see, this is why I avoid mayo at all costs. I am convinced it's sole purpose is to make people sick. Mayo, get thee away from me. Yeech.
And finally some good news: the co-worker of mine that was on medical leave is coming back. Relief is in sight. I'd do a happy dance except I'm afraid I'd knock over one of the piles of paper surrounding my desk.
I'm here. I'm alive. Trent's OK. DH will be OK.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)