Yesterday was a day with issues.
Actually started late Saturday night, when Tralfaz, elder dog, got the intestinal meltdown. Maybe something off the lawn he ate, if he ate something loaded with enough bacteria that they could be seen with the naked eye. Very possibly so --- we have a lot of miscellaneous critters around here, and like all dogs he is interested in their souvenirs.
The lovely and tired Mrs. Key stayed up with him until four o'clock in the morning, taking him out several times. This is in itself quite the chore at the moment, because the snow we got last week melted & froze & melted & froze until now it's rock hard and has footprints (human and canine) carved into it. Dogs don't like to use surfaces like this for their evacuation needs. Watching Tralfaz and his kid brother, Nipper, ice skate on the lawn is fun, but makes it harder on all of us.
At four I tagged in and sent the Mrs. to bed, and it became my turn to take out Tralfaz over and over again.
This made getting to church Sunday a little tricky.
Sick puppies, like sick children, are like having a drunk in the house. There's random puking and crapping, there's unpredictable behavior and destruction and surliness, there's weird noises in the night, and if you make any plans, be prepared to cancel them without warning.
Fortunately, ol' Fazzy was not destructive or surly, just sick and exhausted.
There were other issues.
|"One job, you had" -- Yoda|
I had an event to go to in the afternoon; once Tralfaz was pooped (so to speak) and able to be left in my wife's care again I was able to go. Which was good, because I was the one that was supposed to bring the cake. I had ordered it for the event. It was a quarter sheet cake, decorated in the honor of the celebrant, a cake that, by the way, the supermarket from which I ordered claimed to have not gotten the order for. I didn't even have time for them to slap another cake in a box; I just grabbed an Entenmann's on the way out.
I actually did make it to our parish's Last Chance Mass at 6 p.m. Although I think the pastor had a cold. The Gospel was the Beatitudes, so he was not going to go short on the homily even if he was dying. We all got through.
But the late Mass screwed up our plans for dinner, so instead I grabbed McDinner on the way home. And McD's screwed up the order. I think they had a trainee, which is fine (we all start somewhere) but how do you not put the ice in the Iced Mocha? My wife got Room Temperature Mocha, which is not quite what she had requested. I did try the new Grand Mac, which, if you're curious, is: A Big Mac, only more so. If you're saying to yourself, "I'm hungry, but a Big Mac is just about 25% not enough," then they have the burger for you.
So, a lot of juggling, a little running, and a lot of (in multiple ways) crap.
But you know something? It was a good day.
Tralfaz was on the mend by nightfall, feeling more like himself and being very sweet to us. The event for which I got the cake came off, and no one complained about not having the cake, not even the celebrant -- and the group saved $15. I made it to church, which was nearly the first time in 11 years I didn't -- and I didn't have to cook.
Most people I know would agree with me that it would be a bad day if you started by reaching in the fridge for the milk and finding it (and everything else) as room temperature as a poorly made Iced Mocha. But we'd all agree that we've had days that were so bad we would gladly trade them for one that just featured a busted refrigerator.
It was a good day.