It’s become a routine joke that I have problems finding the time to take a nice relaxing shower since Mac arrived. I spend an inordinate amount of time every day plotting when and how I’ll get a chance to hop in the shower for 5 measly minutes. . .forget about thoroughly shaving. . .deep conditioning hair treatments. All I want is 5 measly minutes!
Be very very careful what you wish for.
Sunday night I got a shower. . .
A golden shower.
From the dog.
If you are mortified, imagine how I feel.
As you likely well know, the mid-Atlantic had some pretty wicked weather over the weekend. We have been experiencing brutal heat and humidity and late Friday and late Sunday nights, we experienced some scary storm activity.
Sunday was a great day. We managed to avoid the heat. Chris was a complete cupcake and even swept and mopped the kitchen floor for me. Mac went to sleep as regularly scheduled. Chris went to sleep. I was enjoying my quiet time in the basement, working on a project way too late in the evening. When I realized how late it was, I started to ready myself for bed.
Even though I was in the basement, I could tell it was raining. I could hear the thunder. And I could hear our old dog, Molly panting upstairs above me on the main level of the house. Yes, I feel badly when the dogs are afraid of a storm but I try to largely ignore them so as not to reinforce their panicked behavior.
I was standing in the middle of the basement surveying the mess I had made of the place working on my project while brushing my teeth when I felt it: something was dripping from the ceiling onto my head and down my back.
What the hell?
I was pretty sure the weather hadn’t ripped the roof and third floor off the house so I stood there befuddled staring up at the exposed floor joists above my head. (We decided in the utility area of the basement to leave the joists exposed and paint them white to give a more open feeling since the clearance is a tad low.)
That can’t be rain. What was dripping all over me? There was sooooooo much of it? Where is this coming from? I stupidly stand there in wonder with the toothbrush hanging out of the corner of my frothy mouth, stuff still dripping all over me.
And very very slowly, things click. This is urine. Dog urine! Dog urine in my hair, running over my face and dripping down my back! It’s raining motherfucking dog piss in my basement. . .At 1AM.
I quickly ditch the toothbrush and use every available old towel and scrub rag we have to mop up the mess. In my mind I’m blaming Molly. She’s up there having a panic attack and she’s in the epicenter of the mess.
I storm up the stairs and try to clean up the mess on the main floor with Clorox wipes and dish towels.
I gather up poor old Molly dog and take her outside. She tinkles. A lot. Entirely too much for a dog that had just allegedly caused it to rain urine all over me and my basement.
When we return, I’m met at the front door by Satan’s Laphound. Imagine that, he also wants a walk at 2AM. I oblige. And he does not have any business to attend to. So he is definitely the giver of my golden shower. I seethe but I can’t really do anything about it at this point.
And just as I’m contemplating a for-real shower, I hear wailing. All the undue activity and thunder and lightning awakened Mac.
And he was inconsolable for a time. And then he refused go back to sleep.
It was a brutal night.
I owe a huge thank you to Chris who once again kept me from going positively freaking mental. And while my cold callous heart is feeling just the slightest bit mushy, I’m so thankful we didn’t lose power. I certainly feel for folks who are battling this heat for days upon days without it. Stay cool and safe – all of you!
Let this be a lesson to all of us: Be very careful what you wish for, indeed.