All Before 9 a.m. on a Snow Day

You really can't make this stuff up.

I'm currently working on writing a long account of my "medical journey" with Lyme and Cervical Cancer because friends from FB groups of both diseases have been asking for me to share my personal story for too many years now.  I know I need to write about it for myself, and I know it may help others who are currently going through the terrifying reality that they have a scary disease few people discuss.

However, if I don't take a break to write about what's happened this morning, I'll burst.  It's always good to balance the solemn with the insanely ridiculous, right?

So, I woke up at 5:30 with a migraine pulsating through my eyes, brain and jaw like a small muppet playing the maracas against my skull.  I applied the usual peppermint oil all over my head & neck, took 3 Excedrin and balanced a baggie of ice on my forehead.  I managed to fall back to sleep after the phone call from the school system announcing the closure of schools due to ice on the roads.  [oh, yay]

Then my 9-year-old daughter woke me at 7:45 with the following news:
"Mama!  You've gotta come quick!  There's poop and trash everywhere and the dogs are running around the house like CRAZY!"

I asked her to give me a minute to process this information while my migraine reminded me it was still stronger than any stupid oil, ice or aspirin, and my stomach reminded me Excedrin is poor breakfast food.

Izzy:  Seriously, Mom!!!  Get UP!  I just went out to the garage to get a bottle of juice from the fridge and I guess the dogs followed me out there, but I didn't notice so they stayed in the garage a while and got into the trash.  They are REALLY BAD DOGS, MAMA!

Me:  Please tell me you're exaggerating a little, honey.  Pleeeeeeeease tell me there really isn't poop and trash all over the house? [gag, swoon, put ice on back of neck]

Izzy:  Okay, well, I guess I FEEL like there is poop everywhere because of the disgusting SMELL--can't you smell it from up here?--and because Hershey must've rolled in it because she reeks and the dogs won't stop running away from me.
They think it's FUNNY!
HURRY!

Me:  [tearing up]  I'm coming.

Izzy:  HURRY, MAMA!

Thankfully, Izzy does exaggerate and she didn't disappoint this time.  While there wasn't trash or poop all over the house, it did, indeed, smell like death throughout.  The dogs were sitting in their beds like perfectly behaved obedience school grads, but were both panting with great big smiles, and one pup was wet.

Num nummy!  A little surprise packet o' fun inside my roaster.

I opened the kitchen door to our garage to find they had torn open a trash bag that hadn't made its way into the actual garbage can (thank you, teenaged son) that hadn't made its way outside to the curb because the snowfall caused the trash collectors to skip collection yesterday (thank you snow and ice and wimpy trash trucks).  What Izzy thought was dog poo was actually the carcass of a roaster chicken from last week... and you know the gross bag of gizzards and such that comes inside of the chicken?  (Why does that come inside of the chicken??  Who uses that stuff??  I really want to know because if I had cooked it last week, this morning would have been a little less disgusting.)  That bag was torn to a zillion pieces and gizzard juice was spread all over the garage.

At this time, I received a text from my Ex... "I'm getting an $8 monthly charge for something I can't and don't use... please change the credit card on the Netflix account.  I also got a charge for Amazon Prime that I'm assuming is yours.  Take a moment to switch that payment info as well."

Yep.  Sure thing!  Right after I tend to the two dogs you left me with (they remember your promise of going running with them everyday, too)!  Count to ten... don't comment... child is present.

I bathed Bad Dog Number One with 2-in-1 tearless Strawberry Smoothie Shampoo while Bad Dog Number Two hid under the art table with her entire rump hanging out.  (Can still see you, Stinker!!!)  Then bathed Number Two while Number One sat outside the bathroom door whimpering for her sister who was being tortured with the wet strawberry water.  At least they have empathy for each other.

Poor Izzy, who has an OCD fear of vomiting, was very worried I would throw up while cleaning up the garage because I said, "I'm going to throw up while cleaning up the garage."  So she decided to pick up her toys from the family room and kitchen without being asked.  And she was so relieved when I told her the t-shirt tied around my face was covered in cinnamon oil so I wouldn't smell the rotten chicken as I picked up the pieces with leftover surgical gloves Izzy's nurse left last month.

The beloved BAD dogs who, as you can tell, are feeling a little queasy
 after their bath and breakfast of champions

After spraying a blend of wholesome essential oils and Clorox bleach all over the garage, I took a nice, hot shower.  The oil diffuser is in the kitchen pumping out some good smelling mixture of citrus and mint.  The dogs are drying in front of the fire.  Izzy is out in the snow sledding with a pal, and it sounds like 42 of Max's closest friends are in the basement watching a movie and trying to act cool seeing who can get the most texts in 60 seconds.

My migraine is gone (thank God for all miracles--big and small) and I think I will make myself some brunch.  Maybe peanut butter toast with banana and honey.  Definitely not the chicken sandwich I had planned on eating today.

Lessons learned... put all trash bags in air-tight receptacles, learn how to enjoy preparing giblets, gizzards and such (just in case), and never answer texts during stressful moments or your sarcasm may not be well-received.  

Happy Hump Day, Everyone!  :)