No, I was dragged from my bed by a determined two year old. Gar.
We stumbled and pranced into the living room, excited/annoyed (respectively) about watching a Sesame Street: Old School video we had borrowed. Apparently Q thought it held an important message that would self destruct if we didn't watch it as soon as humanly possible.
"Momma, what's dis on da floor? Is dis poo poo?"
Momma doesn't have her contacts in (nor am I wearing pants). Eyes out of commission, she uses her nose and with that sensitive organ two inches away from the mess, she realized it IS poo poo (of the sick dog persuasion).
I put my contacts in. "Plwease put in Sesame Street."
I pull out the steam vac. "Sesame Street! Sesame Street!"
I pre-treat the carpet, and turn on the vac, only to realize that it smells like an electrical fire. "Sesame STREET!"
I notice that the steam vac has decided that water is optional when cleaning stains. I turn it off. Inside, I am jumping up and down like Rumpelstiltskin. It makes me feel better to imagine myself as an angry, tricky, elf guy.
The clock chimes seven, and I have finally cleaned up the dog doo. Sesame Street:Old School is in the player.
"Why is Oscar ORANGE?...DIS is not my show."
Things have changed since 1969.
I spend about five minutes trying to explain the cow segment. Cows make milk. They have udders. The baby cow is not trying to eat the momma cow.
Anyway, we survive and make it past morning, and the dog is outside, banished for life. We ramble to Costco and while we wait for a tire change, I decide to buy a lobster tail. Why? Who knows really. Because I felt like it.
We leave Costco and guess what? My sister-in-law, and brother-in-law, and their three kids, and apparently two recently acquired puppies are coming to visit today, and spend the night.
There's a nice sort of chaos stewing at my house. It's going to be a poopy party over here, with amateurish lobster and maybe an Orange Grouch.
Happy Weekend!