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| Imagine a little halo hovering above its wand ... |
I have one of those Bissell Little Green miracles. Two dogs, two kids, a husband ... a worthwhile investment. Yesterday I lent it to my mother, who's beagle decided to pretend one of her large area rugs was a potty.
Given the atrocities I apparently committed in a previous life the karma fairy came by the house this morning. To spare you the nastiest of the details I will give the circumstances to you via the text message conversation on my phone. Before I do, please note the following: St Paul of Bunyan is a wonderful human being who can do a great many things including be a wonderful dad and make a fire using only string and draino while camping int he Arctic circle. He is however a huge wussypants when it comes to vomit. The man has the stomach of a 6-week-pregnant-woman.
Me: Oh. My. God. I am so f***ing glad you are not home right now.
SPB: Why?
SPB: That's rude!
Me: {Insert dog's name here} just vomited a whole, completely intact, really smelly shit on the WHITE couch. It was so gross that *I* got sick. Can't f***ing imagine the mess if you had been home.
Me: Did I mention its on the white couch?
Me: Did I mention it still looked like a f***ing turd?!
Me: Did I mention the house smells like shit now?
SPB: Oh good <-- we will return to this comment momentarily
SPB: What an ass
Me: Did I mention that my mom has my f***ing Bissell and I can't do anything to get rid of the stink?!
SPB: Oh hell, go get it
Allow me to take a moment to answer the most pressing question on your mind right now: WTF, you have a white couch?! Um, yes, but not on purpose. And really its not very white, more of a dingy grey now, but I am sure it was manufactured to be a white one. It came with the house.
I can also assure you that St Paul and I will be having a little heart to heart about appropriate responses because he doesn't seem to have any. "Oh good?" Good? What part of dog ralphing poop that can somehow simultaneously look and smell like both poop and puke is good?! The part where you weren't home for it? Yes, true. I agree because I would have been cleaning up after your puke too and been a lot madder, and really who wouldn't be grateful to have missed out on this fun? But to say it? Out loud? Okay he didn't say it, but he had to type it. At some point there should have been some attempt at filtering that could have happened. I am imagining the robot with sirens blaring saying "danger Will Robertson!" only he says St Paul of Bunyan's name instead.
So, in order to get appropriate, make-me-feel-better responses, I spoke with my mom.
Me: OMG my dog just spewed. On my couch. It was poop. A poop vomit hybrid. Can I please swing by your house and borrow my Bissell back for an hour?
Mom: OMG, no! You poor thing, I will bring it to you!
When you want to hear an appropriate response, ask a woman.
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