With cricket out of town, I'm on full-time doggie duty. it was pouring this morning, and I'm still not sure about the dark skies when I wake up since time sprung forward. I just don't have that spring in my step.
I let the dog out, and she would NOT come back inside. Did I mention it was pouring? And she HATES the rain. After trading my robe + slippers for rain jacket + slippers, I went after her. She's just taking her sweet a$$ time in the rain. Ugh. Then she wouldn't eat her breakfast. Double ugh. Finally she ate while I showered. She was so sad when I left. It broke my heart to see her sad eyes. I can' blame her, since I'd been out of town all weekend. She probably thought I was leaving her again.
So I got home to this: a puke spot on the jute rug. With grass in the puddle. Mystery solved about what she was doing outside so long this morning. She even looked guilty:
So, I consulted the web for "how to clean dog puke from a jute rug." the results seemed promising...
...but were mostly just random bulletin boards with little help. Thus, I deferred to the hubs (who usually beats me home and is thus the rug cleaning pro), and he advised warm water, a rag, and lots of folding + rubbing to get it out of the crevices.
While I heated up the water, I preheated the oven for my singleton pizza. I started rubbing. A few minutes later, the puke spot looked like this:
Then the squeal of the smoke detector blares. Something in the bottom of the oven is burning. Ugh. Run to the back closet to get my handy alarm-shushing tool. Yes, I have a handy tool for that. (and yes, we need a new stove).
Yup, that's my handy dandy broom that reaches the stupid smoke alarm button (and some new mirrors for a future post). (Btw, golf clubs work too.) I turned on the fan and opened the back door to help air circulate. "no, dog." gotta keep her away from an after-dinner grass snack. I know where that gets me.
Back to rubbing the rug. Smoke alarm. Broom shushes alarm. Phone rings. College alumni office...you know what they want. Chit-chat. Smoke alarm. "hang on, that's my smoke detector." broom shushes alarm again. Dog sneaks outside. "Lula, no! Get in here you sneak." "hi, yeah, this is not a good time, sorry." chuckle on the other end. Click. Dog looking for a treat. Really dog? phone rings, it's Cricket. Alarm again. crap. "what's that?" "ummm, the smoke detector. I'm in rare form tonight." "k. Call ya later."
The new note on the stove is my reminder to change the bottom foil liner. It's green, for luck.
Ahhhhh....glass of red wine, pizza, couch. I'm so glad St Patty's is near...hopefully the luck cometh. Not to mention, hubs is in Vegas. It's obvious the luck isn't on my side, maybe it's on his. Don't worry, I'll still blog if he hits the jackpot. And the posts will be of my travels to exotic places and five-diamond resorts. You can all come along.