In an email between Kait and I today she expressed her empathy at my vacuum cord having been eaten by Lucy in the following words:
ohhhh nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Yeah. I laughed my A off. It was one of the few things that made me laugh today. It also just so happens to be how I’ve felt about my entire day which truthfully started at about 2am rather than 4:15am as originally planned. It started with my own mistake admittedly.
Last night (as I’ve gotten into the habit of doing lately) I slept on the futon in my “living room”…I’ve fooled myself into thinking that falling asleep to the t.v. is easier than falling asleep to silence. And really, this shouldn’t be any kind of a problem. The two “rooms” in my apt. really aren’t that different after all. However, there is a new additive to my front door; a mail slot for rent payments (another entirely too long story as to why that’s changed now). It is big enough for someone open up and look through. I didn’t connect these two things when I went to sleep at like 8 last night.
2am…I wake up to someone pounding on my door. Not knocking, or rapping or any other cute way to say it…pounding. I instantly became enraged and hoped in vain that it was some drunk a-hole at the wrong door who would stagger away in a moment. Nope. What they did instead was flip up the mail slot thing and peek inside while frantically reporting, “Kelly wake up! Someone set the dumpster on fire!!”
Dogs are barking at full volume of course, as they always do anytime someone knocks on the door (only they’re actually louder when someone repeatedly knocks on the door; especially in the middle of the night when they’re at their most protective), I am not fully awake (nor fully dressed), I am disoriented…and I can not for the life of me believe that what he said wasn’t some ridiculous joke.
Even after I processed it some I just layed there for a while hoping the situation would sort of vanish. Then I heard the fire truck pull up. Sooo, I stumbled around in the dark trying to find acceptable clothing and some sort of shoe or slipper. I knew if I hadn’t I would just suffer through more knocking, and peering, and dog barking. (I will admit that I also thought to myself at that moment…damn Ozzies to hell…although, of course, I have no way of knowing how it started in the first place. It was just a little convenient however that it happened at what is commonly known as “drunk hour”.)
On a complete side note, I will say my level of tranquility in situations that could be a crisis astounds me. Like when that earthquake happened years back that just about leveled the Phoenix Underground in Pioneer Square…I had been sleeping in, a friend had stayed the night. In the middle of the earthquake I calmly asked my friend, “is this an earthquake?” to which he replied, “yes”. I just continued to lay there during the entire thing. Or like, during that same year when an entire building in the apt. complex was burning to the ground and about five thousand fire trucks were screaming their way in and it took Audrey’s boyfriend moving heaven and earth (he actually did, it was pretty amazing) to get me out of bed. I should have been an EMT.
ANYway…once dressed I dutifully plodded outside. What did I do once I got there to handle the situation? I stood there in the cold, and blinked, and that was about it. They didn’t even have to wake me up at that hour. Because all I did was stand there and blink since it was handled. And so, since my sleep was so interrupted it was like pulling teeth to try and fall back asleep. For a while I considered just staying up until it was time to get ready…and then thought better of it.
Only I should have stayed awake, because I was a half an hour late to work this morning…after I had finally mustered the courage to commit to 6am Tue-Fri. Nice. AND, prior to having to show up late to work I got to see (with contacts in) the carnage from the fire that I would have to clean up once I got home (from being late to work). I also made the mistake of disclosing the burning dumpster story to my supervisor after apologizing for being late…and it was only after I returned to my office that I realized the story sounds like the most legendary reason ever for ending up late to work (especially taking into account the kinds of stories we hear from clients at times).
ohhhh nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Yeah. Only it was true. But that’s not even the best part. On the bus, on the way to work I realized that I couldn’t remember actually latching Lucy’s kennel because I was in a huge rush to get out of the apt. so I could spend $10 on a cab (so as to avoid being “Metro” late).
ohhhh nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
No. No. And no. Because I clearly remember the annihilation the last time I so foolishly made that same mistake. So I spent the day with the impact of that potential mess on top of the mess I had actually witnessed. Cool.
Eventually I returned to the oasis of home, only when I got here and first walked in Lucy’s presence was not immediately apparent (not only because I couldn’t see her, but also because my belongings at first glance had not been severely interrupted). I really did wonder for a second if she had somehow gotten out of the apt. and was blazing through the streets of Queen Anne. Her behavior is so awful sometimes that for a deranged moment I really did wonder if that had happened and became even more freaked out.
All was solved when I found her in the bathroom…she had locked herself in there accidentally which truthfully is better than if she had been foot loose and fancy free in my apt. all day. BUT she did get a hold of various items, including a knife that had been in the sink, as well as a few other kitchen instruments that she pulverized before the demise of her free run. I won’t go into the details of the mess I had to clean up in my bathroom but maybe it’s imagineable…a year-old labrador who is kennel trained having access to all that extra space for 8 hours (especially considering that labradors are known for the following: obsessive chewing, dependence on other beings, and an amazingly high tolerance for pain). I still can’t find the other (huge) piece of my hand held mirror that used to call my bathroom its home…I suspect that she probably did actually ingest the whole thing save for a small pice of wood which was part of the frame. During the hour that I spent cleaning everything up I also spent one wild moment dreaming of just throwing away most of my belongings, turning my apt. into a big kennel, and sleeping in my car to allow them the run of the place so I wouldn’t have to ever again go through the process of detaining my anger about my chewed up belongings while cleaning it all up. In all actuality, it was maybe good that I had to spend all that time focusing on returning my place to status quo today; it provided me an outlet to avoid ruminating on other things.
One good thing?! Someone cleaned up the garbage mess and when I saw that I almost got down on my knees and thanked the heavens. I am not resting until I find out who it was so I can bear hug them until they can’t breathe for a second. AND, the day is over.
I hope my Dad does a good job on my car this week, because after the week I’ve had I’m going to drive the hell out of that thing this weekend (especially since I now need to purchase a new vacuum).
refridgerator. I mistakenly thought that she would lose interest and made the poor choice of leaving her for a few minutes at a time unattended in my apt. The result? A kitchen floor that had be completely replaced. Thankfully the maintenance guy at my apts was willing to do this for free; the only cost being the materials (as well as, and I quote, “a chicken dinner”). Approximate cost of the damage: $100.00