Bindi's Gift

So this morning started out the way most mornings do. I got up. I brushed my teeth. Gary let the dogs in. I took a shower. Then all hell broke loose. Mom called to say Jack was in great pain. Meg called to say Jack had to go to the hospital. Hospice called to say Jack had to sign a paper taking himself off Hospice services before he went to the hospital. I smelled something foul coming from the dark hallway and walked down the hall to find out what it was. SQUISH. I stepped barefoot into a mound of soft-serve poop on the Oriental rug, a "gift" courtesy of Bindi Sue. Then as the stinky mess oozed through my toes, I managed to get it on my nice black pants. Turning to hop back toward the bathroom, gagging all the way, I also got some on the wall and then on the bedroom carpet. The bedroom was suddenly a crime scene, only with poo instead of blood.

Determined not to let this be a metaphor for the day ahead, I took another shower and washed out my black pants. Gary cleaned up the house, using almost a whole jug of Resolve on the carpets. Bindi was banished to the backyard. I got to work an hour late, with Vanna in tow. Now Jack is in Hoag Hospital and Meg is on her way down from the ranch. Another weekend bites the dust; but I'm still smiling and feeling thankful!