I am tired. It’s 1:36. I am not holding out much hope for the rest of the day. I got to the gym and ran for an hour and then Costco…and my visiting teachers were waiting for me when I got home. No biggie, right? Right. This means that I did not have time to come in and vacuum up dog hair that collects daily in our entryway because of the white, smooth tile. Plus, she has taken to the floral couch (one we brought from Omaha) as her bed and lays in the formal room off the entryway while we’re gone. Today she went the extra mile and ate a bag of Orowheat Potato Bread in the formal room and left evidence. Dumb dog. She should at least know to eat the evidence, too. So, I kindly invited the sweet sisters in and mentioned they may want to sit on the other couch as it doesn’t have dog hair on it. One sister – pregnant with her 6th kid – was unfazed. She knows the territory. The other sister reminded me of myself when I was young and only had 2 kids (well, she’s much prettier, but you get my drift). She kept trying to brush her baby’s hands after he crawled on the carpet. Really it wasn’t that bad, but…I could do nothing about it. Well, I could have gotten up and vacuumed with my Dyson Animal but that would have been rude. Poor thing, I could tell she was really stressed about it. It was all I could do to offer her to let her children wash their hands on their way out. She accepted. I was humiliated but then reminded myself – just wait until she has 4 kids (may she be blessed with 3 more boys and a dog). And now I cannot bring myself to touch the vacuum. On principle.
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