Or just crazy?
Have you ever had one of those days when you should have just stayed in bed with the covers pulled over your head? Days that make you wonder if someone or something is out to get you? All that bragging the other day about the universe smiling down on me, treating me with a bit of special favour must have pissed off the powers that be, because today felt like pay back. Maybe I was getting a little too cocky and needed knocking off my perch.
Usually, I live a charmed life. I don’t need to get up super early, 8:30 is more than enough time to feed four pups, do their bathroom stuff, feed myself and shower. I only have to saunter into work at 10:30, a very civilized time. Some mornings I even snooze the alarm to a risky 9:00. It’s a bit more hectic and rushed but it gives me that extra ½ sleep that’s usually needed after a night of insomnia.
This morning was a break in the routine. I set the alarm for 6:45 to be on the road by 8:00 to get the pups to the groomers by 8:30. It’s only once a month so I bite the bullet but I’m not a happy camper. Grooming four dogs is an all-day process with a pickup of 4:30 so the earlier I get there the better. The groomer asks for 7:30, but I tell him that’s impossible, I couldn’t handle the stress of getting there on time. Sure enough, this morning I was so tired I fell back to sleep and only woke at 7:30 with just enough time to feed my babies, take them out for their morning abolition, throw on some makeup and lipstick and then hit the highway, with a hat over my greasy hair and still wearing my jammy top under my coat.
All goes well. The dogs are delivered for a day at the spa and I’m back home getting breakfast and a shower. It's still early so I'm ahead of the game and I’m feeling spot on, knowing I have three new designs to post on the website and Michelle, a new gal is coming in for training. It’s going to be a great day! Now with two gals to help with the patterns that leaves me time for designing and that’s what I like! I’m thinking life is good and I’m feeling spry, bursting with energy, excited for the day to begin.
I’m slathering on the hand cream, the last bit of prep before heading out the door and then I reach for my rings. One, two three, all accounted for but where is number four? The ring that sits between my solitaire and my wedding band is missing. I’ve been keeping them on the lower shelf of the cupboard where the glassware is kept. I’m a creature of habit; take them off as soon as I walk in the door. I don’t like wearing them when my hands are in water etc, so they are off of my fingers when I’m home. I don’t vary or sway from the norm….I’m as good as clockwork in my habits.
One ring is missing. And it’s not just any ring. It’s one I had custom made with diamonds that match my solitaire that hubby gave me after the house cleaner stole my Diamonelle, a simulated diamond exclusive to the Shopping Channel, something I’ve ranted about in a previous blog. The ring was new in December, not even old enough to be scratched so the frantic search begins. I take everything out of the cupboard several times, no ring. So I scour the counter, behind the Keurig and in and around the container of utensils. I’m looking in the drawer that holds all the household junk, the dumping ground we all for the small things you hate to throw out but never really use. I’m now searching the island counter, moving and checking under things, I'm frazzled and panicked.....and then a thought hits me.
Henri! My cream miniature poodle! Saturday evening I was on the sofa snuggled with three of my pups and Henri was prowling around per the usual sniffing every nook and cranny for some excitement. He came over and lay beside the sofa and I heard a little clink, like metal hitting the floor. I looked over the arm and he was sprawled out on the floor and his jaw was moving. I asked him what he had and normally he will drop whatever it is but this time he didn’t. I touched him on his mouth and he swallowed, I put my finger in there and found nothing. Whatever it was, was now gone. I start assuming…probably a blueberry, a piece of dried chicken, something edible foraged from their dishes. I didn’t give it a second thought…until now.
He’s never been one to chew but last week he totally destroyed a sterling silver hoop earring that must have fallen off while I napped on the sofa. By the time I noticed what he was doing he’d completely demolished it. And then he chewed the stop off the zipper of my new winter boots, they still work but I can only raise the zipper an inch below the top of the boot. So because things seem to happen to me in threes, it wasn’t unreasonable to think that my ring had somehow fallen to the floor, he’d found it and worked his magic. At this point I don’t think he’s swallowed it, it had to be somewhere on the floor. I got down on my hands and knees with a flashlight, figuring if it was good enough for CSI, good enough for me. I thought the light would pick up the glitter of the diamonds easily. I covered every square inch of the downstairs floors. Nothing! Well, actually, I found lots of things that remind me I have to vacuum but nothing gold. Then I start thinking that maybe he did swallow it and when it happened and how many poops he’s had since. I grabbed a paring knife and hit the yard, thankfully all the turds were still where they were dropped as I only do a poop scoop once a week.
So I’m out in the cold slicing and dicing frozen turds and not just Henri’s, I figured Jake might have been an accomplice. Heck, while I was there I figured I might as well do them all. Leave no stone unturned so to speak. The entire yard is now full of fileted crap but I didn't find the ring and I had to laugh in spite of my angst, things could always be worse, I could have a pet elephant......
So I call the groomer, thinking it might be still inside Henri and I tell Bob to save any business for me to inspect. I figured it would pass easily, the diamonds are low making the ring round and smooth. So if the ring was in my boy, it was now a waiting game.
I didn't want to put all my eggs in one colon without proof so I continue searching the house, and now I’m dragging out the stove and the fridge. If Henri found the ring and dropped it on the floor it may have rolled under something; scenario after scenario flashed to mind. I won’t describe the horror story under the appliances but it’s time for a clean.
So far I haven’t mentioned the fool I made of myself at work. Whipped into a froth, I drove to the shop at 10:45 because the new girl was supposed to come in and I needed to set her up with jobs to do. I wasn’t fit to be seen nor should I have allowed anyone to be subjected to my mood. I was almost losing my mind as the dollar value of that ring tortured me and all I wanted to do was search for it. I blew in and then left leaving a trail of negative energy that could have singed the wool. Poor sweet Nancy! I heard her exclaim as I slammed out the door, “I hope you find your ring.” I’m not good at hiding my feelings, wearing them on my sleeve for all the world to see! If I’m slightly upset I can manage it, but when I’m in full blown, out of my mind frenzy, there’s no smoothing it over with a smile. It's a learned behavior from my father who when angry with himself for doing something stupid, went fifty rounds on himself. I did apologize for my actions while I was still in the middle of them, hopefully she'll judge me on my daily, normal behavior, not the Mrs. Hyde transformation of the morning.
So I come back home and continued my search. I needed to vent so decided to phone hubby who is away right now working and pass on the bad energy, make his morning as miserable as the one I’m having. I think I said something to the fact that it was his fault for teaching Henri to chew things. The guy never touched a thing until daddy gave him a few egg cartons to ravage. All really cute that first time, but now a learned behavior that leaves the downstairs covered in centimeter sized bits of paper from one end of the house to the other. Anyway, by now I’m whipped up like cream and I’m half crying. Stupid ring! Why do we have nice things if the potential to loose them can send you over the edge. Where was the bloody universe when you need it? Why was I being forsaken?
So I tear apart the counter again, the drawer, check my jean pockets, the bed upstairs in case Henri had puked it up during the night. I refused to call the Vet, I couldn’t be 100% positive that it was swallowed so I’m trying the free solutions first. No sense rushing that gate until I’m certain. I’m flying around the house like a mad woman, sweating bullets until I can’t stand the material of the shirt touching my skin, so I rip it off so my pores can breathe, knowing full well this little trip over the edge is going to wreak havoc on my thinning hair, probably speed up the loss so I’m bald by Friday. So much for eliminating stress, it’s now eating me alive!
Then, through the madness a thought hit me. I keep an ivy plant on the stove top. When I use more than one burner I move the plant to the counter as not to scorch the leaves. I’d done that the night before and now it was back on the stove so I hadn’t given it a thought. I remember taking two pens off the shelf and throwing them in the drawer below it, what if I accidentally knocked the ring into the plant when it was on the counter? Could it be that simple? I held my breath as I parted the leaves. There it was, shining up at me as if to say, it’s about time, why did you leave me here in the dirt?
Relief flooded me and I started to cry. Stupid ring. Stupid bloody ring! Stupid me! It was like finding your missing child in the mall, torn between hugging them for being safe, and shaking them for wandering off. The ring being an inanimate object this incident was clearly my fault, my carelessness landed it in the pot, I only had myself to blame so I wouldn't hold a grudge. I snatched it up and slipped it on my finger where it belongs. It never shined more brightly!
Now it was noon, all the morning wasted and I was just about done for the day. All that crawling around and stress wiped me out. So now I have to call Bob, the groomer, to let him know he doesn’t have to collect dog poop….and called hubby to let him know the crisis was over and I'm sorry for being a jerk. Once again I’m sure he’s not impressed, per the usual after one of my fits. If only I could be like Carol, the mom on the Brady Bunch, calm and cool like a cucumber. Using a gentle, loving voice even when her buttons were pushed....not a hair out of place or a furrowed brow in sight. In my defense my life isn't scripted but why do I have to go over the top and explode like a volcano? So I’ll lie dormant for awhile, maybe a year will go by before the next crisis and eruption when more molten sweat and tears will spew out of Mount St. Chrissy, burning the roots of my remaining hair.
Usually, I live a charmed life. I don’t need to get up super early, 8:30 is more than enough time to feed four pups, do their bathroom stuff, feed myself and shower. I only have to saunter into work at 10:30, a very civilized time. Some mornings I even snooze the alarm to a risky 9:00. It’s a bit more hectic and rushed but it gives me that extra ½ sleep that’s usually needed after a night of insomnia.
This morning was a break in the routine. I set the alarm for 6:45 to be on the road by 8:00 to get the pups to the groomers by 8:30. It’s only once a month so I bite the bullet but I’m not a happy camper. Grooming four dogs is an all-day process with a pickup of 4:30 so the earlier I get there the better. The groomer asks for 7:30, but I tell him that’s impossible, I couldn’t handle the stress of getting there on time. Sure enough, this morning I was so tired I fell back to sleep and only woke at 7:30 with just enough time to feed my babies, take them out for their morning abolition, throw on some makeup and lipstick and then hit the highway, with a hat over my greasy hair and still wearing my jammy top under my coat.
All goes well. The dogs are delivered for a day at the spa and I’m back home getting breakfast and a shower. It's still early so I'm ahead of the game and I’m feeling spot on, knowing I have three new designs to post on the website and Michelle, a new gal is coming in for training. It’s going to be a great day! Now with two gals to help with the patterns that leaves me time for designing and that’s what I like! I’m thinking life is good and I’m feeling spry, bursting with energy, excited for the day to begin.
I’m slathering on the hand cream, the last bit of prep before heading out the door and then I reach for my rings. One, two three, all accounted for but where is number four? The ring that sits between my solitaire and my wedding band is missing. I’ve been keeping them on the lower shelf of the cupboard where the glassware is kept. I’m a creature of habit; take them off as soon as I walk in the door. I don’t like wearing them when my hands are in water etc, so they are off of my fingers when I’m home. I don’t vary or sway from the norm….I’m as good as clockwork in my habits.
One ring is missing. And it’s not just any ring. It’s one I had custom made with diamonds that match my solitaire that hubby gave me after the house cleaner stole my Diamonelle, a simulated diamond exclusive to the Shopping Channel, something I’ve ranted about in a previous blog. The ring was new in December, not even old enough to be scratched so the frantic search begins. I take everything out of the cupboard several times, no ring. So I scour the counter, behind the Keurig and in and around the container of utensils. I’m looking in the drawer that holds all the household junk, the dumping ground we all for the small things you hate to throw out but never really use. I’m now searching the island counter, moving and checking under things, I'm frazzled and panicked.....and then a thought hits me.
Henri! My cream miniature poodle! Saturday evening I was on the sofa snuggled with three of my pups and Henri was prowling around per the usual sniffing every nook and cranny for some excitement. He came over and lay beside the sofa and I heard a little clink, like metal hitting the floor. I looked over the arm and he was sprawled out on the floor and his jaw was moving. I asked him what he had and normally he will drop whatever it is but this time he didn’t. I touched him on his mouth and he swallowed, I put my finger in there and found nothing. Whatever it was, was now gone. I start assuming…probably a blueberry, a piece of dried chicken, something edible foraged from their dishes. I didn’t give it a second thought…until now.
He’s never been one to chew but last week he totally destroyed a sterling silver hoop earring that must have fallen off while I napped on the sofa. By the time I noticed what he was doing he’d completely demolished it. And then he chewed the stop off the zipper of my new winter boots, they still work but I can only raise the zipper an inch below the top of the boot. So because things seem to happen to me in threes, it wasn’t unreasonable to think that my ring had somehow fallen to the floor, he’d found it and worked his magic. At this point I don’t think he’s swallowed it, it had to be somewhere on the floor. I got down on my hands and knees with a flashlight, figuring if it was good enough for CSI, good enough for me. I thought the light would pick up the glitter of the diamonds easily. I covered every square inch of the downstairs floors. Nothing! Well, actually, I found lots of things that remind me I have to vacuum but nothing gold. Then I start thinking that maybe he did swallow it and when it happened and how many poops he’s had since. I grabbed a paring knife and hit the yard, thankfully all the turds were still where they were dropped as I only do a poop scoop once a week.
So I’m out in the cold slicing and dicing frozen turds and not just Henri’s, I figured Jake might have been an accomplice. Heck, while I was there I figured I might as well do them all. Leave no stone unturned so to speak. The entire yard is now full of fileted crap but I didn't find the ring and I had to laugh in spite of my angst, things could always be worse, I could have a pet elephant......
So I call the groomer, thinking it might be still inside Henri and I tell Bob to save any business for me to inspect. I figured it would pass easily, the diamonds are low making the ring round and smooth. So if the ring was in my boy, it was now a waiting game.
I didn't want to put all my eggs in one colon without proof so I continue searching the house, and now I’m dragging out the stove and the fridge. If Henri found the ring and dropped it on the floor it may have rolled under something; scenario after scenario flashed to mind. I won’t describe the horror story under the appliances but it’s time for a clean.
So far I haven’t mentioned the fool I made of myself at work. Whipped into a froth, I drove to the shop at 10:45 because the new girl was supposed to come in and I needed to set her up with jobs to do. I wasn’t fit to be seen nor should I have allowed anyone to be subjected to my mood. I was almost losing my mind as the dollar value of that ring tortured me and all I wanted to do was search for it. I blew in and then left leaving a trail of negative energy that could have singed the wool. Poor sweet Nancy! I heard her exclaim as I slammed out the door, “I hope you find your ring.” I’m not good at hiding my feelings, wearing them on my sleeve for all the world to see! If I’m slightly upset I can manage it, but when I’m in full blown, out of my mind frenzy, there’s no smoothing it over with a smile. It's a learned behavior from my father who when angry with himself for doing something stupid, went fifty rounds on himself. I did apologize for my actions while I was still in the middle of them, hopefully she'll judge me on my daily, normal behavior, not the Mrs. Hyde transformation of the morning.
So I come back home and continued my search. I needed to vent so decided to phone hubby who is away right now working and pass on the bad energy, make his morning as miserable as the one I’m having. I think I said something to the fact that it was his fault for teaching Henri to chew things. The guy never touched a thing until daddy gave him a few egg cartons to ravage. All really cute that first time, but now a learned behavior that leaves the downstairs covered in centimeter sized bits of paper from one end of the house to the other. Anyway, by now I’m whipped up like cream and I’m half crying. Stupid ring! Why do we have nice things if the potential to loose them can send you over the edge. Where was the bloody universe when you need it? Why was I being forsaken?
So I tear apart the counter again, the drawer, check my jean pockets, the bed upstairs in case Henri had puked it up during the night. I refused to call the Vet, I couldn’t be 100% positive that it was swallowed so I’m trying the free solutions first. No sense rushing that gate until I’m certain. I’m flying around the house like a mad woman, sweating bullets until I can’t stand the material of the shirt touching my skin, so I rip it off so my pores can breathe, knowing full well this little trip over the edge is going to wreak havoc on my thinning hair, probably speed up the loss so I’m bald by Friday. So much for eliminating stress, it’s now eating me alive!
Then, through the madness a thought hit me. I keep an ivy plant on the stove top. When I use more than one burner I move the plant to the counter as not to scorch the leaves. I’d done that the night before and now it was back on the stove so I hadn’t given it a thought. I remember taking two pens off the shelf and throwing them in the drawer below it, what if I accidentally knocked the ring into the plant when it was on the counter? Could it be that simple? I held my breath as I parted the leaves. There it was, shining up at me as if to say, it’s about time, why did you leave me here in the dirt?
Relief flooded me and I started to cry. Stupid ring. Stupid bloody ring! Stupid me! It was like finding your missing child in the mall, torn between hugging them for being safe, and shaking them for wandering off. The ring being an inanimate object this incident was clearly my fault, my carelessness landed it in the pot, I only had myself to blame so I wouldn't hold a grudge. I snatched it up and slipped it on my finger where it belongs. It never shined more brightly!
Now it was noon, all the morning wasted and I was just about done for the day. All that crawling around and stress wiped me out. So now I have to call Bob, the groomer, to let him know he doesn’t have to collect dog poop….and called hubby to let him know the crisis was over and I'm sorry for being a jerk. Once again I’m sure he’s not impressed, per the usual after one of my fits. If only I could be like Carol, the mom on the Brady Bunch, calm and cool like a cucumber. Using a gentle, loving voice even when her buttons were pushed....not a hair out of place or a furrowed brow in sight. In my defense my life isn't scripted but why do I have to go over the top and explode like a volcano? So I’ll lie dormant for awhile, maybe a year will go by before the next crisis and eruption when more molten sweat and tears will spew out of Mount St. Chrissy, burning the roots of my remaining hair.
Mount St. Chrissy
This is what's left of my sterling earring after Henri got a hold of it. Someday it'll be melted down and repurposed. But boo hoo for now!
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