A few nights ago, I had a dream. Actually, it was more like a nightmare. In it, our whole family was staying in one motel room with the dog. (This has actually happened in real life, although we only had three kids at the time.)
In my "dream", we were getting ready to leave when we noticed the smell of dog poop. When we investigated, we found a horse pile of dog poop up against the wall under the heater. Doc took one look at it and announced that he wasn't cleaning it up. He was going to leave it for the motel cleaning ladies to deal with it.
I was in agreement. I wasn't going near it. I just shrugged and said, "She's your dog." So, as we finished packing up, we all had to deal with the horrendous stench filling the small room. Crinkling up my nose, I took a bag and began filling it with the toys that had been strewn all over the room.
I picked up toy after toy. There were toys in the corners, under the beds, and under the blankets and pillows. In fact, they were everywhere. Just when I thought I had picked them all up, there would be more somewhere else.
I was still picking up toys when I woke up. The room was dark and I noticed that it was still very early in the morning. I realized that my dream wasn't just a dream. It was my life. I still have to clean up the occasional horse pile of crap left behind by Leigh and her picky stomach. I still have to constantly step aside toys that are carried upstairs by disobedient children.
The one thing that stood out, though, in my nightmare was Doc's uncharacteristic reaction to the dog poop. I thought it was kind of funny considering he would pronounce that action as a totally white trash thing to do.
Methinks, I need to dream better dreams......or "accidentally" lose the dog and put fire to all the toys.
In my "dream", we were getting ready to leave when we noticed the smell of dog poop. When we investigated, we found a horse pile of dog poop up against the wall under the heater. Doc took one look at it and announced that he wasn't cleaning it up. He was going to leave it for the motel cleaning ladies to deal with it.
I was in agreement. I wasn't going near it. I just shrugged and said, "She's your dog." So, as we finished packing up, we all had to deal with the horrendous stench filling the small room. Crinkling up my nose, I took a bag and began filling it with the toys that had been strewn all over the room.
I picked up toy after toy. There were toys in the corners, under the beds, and under the blankets and pillows. In fact, they were everywhere. Just when I thought I had picked them all up, there would be more somewhere else.
I was still picking up toys when I woke up. The room was dark and I noticed that it was still very early in the morning. I realized that my dream wasn't just a dream. It was my life. I still have to clean up the occasional horse pile of crap left behind by Leigh and her picky stomach. I still have to constantly step aside toys that are carried upstairs by disobedient children.
The one thing that stood out, though, in my nightmare was Doc's uncharacteristic reaction to the dog poop. I thought it was kind of funny considering he would pronounce that action as a totally white trash thing to do.
Methinks, I need to dream better dreams......or "accidentally" lose the dog and put fire to all the toys.
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