There were so many things I wanted to do today, but in the end I did none of them, because I died.
It’s tragic, I know. I will miss me. Regardless–am now dead. Several times over, actually.
The nice folks who sometimes send me products to try sent along a new! improved! Swiffer, and I thought it would be quite amusing to line it up along with all of my other Swiffer and Swiffer-like products and take a picture (just to demonstrate that even though you would never know by looking at my dirty floors, I own a veritable museum of cleaning implements with jointed aluminum handles). Oh, the hilarity that would ensue from that photo! I have an original Swiffer! An improved Swiffer! A Swiffer Wet-Jet! A Swiffer Carpet Flick! And–cover your eyes, Swiffer people–whatever that Pledge thingie is that’s an imitation of the Wet-Jet but shoots foamy stuff!
Yes, I would take a picture, and then I would test it out, and all would be well. But then I died.
I went to take a picture, you see, forgetting that my camera is currently ill. It is possessed by evil spirits. This causes it to turn on, act more or less like, you know, a camera, and then insist after I press the button to take a picture that Oops! The batteries are dead! Sorry! The batteries are NOT dead. The camera is disturbed. And I, in turn, am fifty-seven different kinds of stressed out about it, because I don’t know what’s wrong or if I can/should get it fixed, and of course my reaction to this is to keep “forgetting” that there’s anything wrong, and taking out the camera, and then being surprised when it doesn’t work. And then dying a little when I realize that, in fact, denial does not fix an expensive camera.
So I couldn’t take a picture of my impressive assortment of handled cleaners. Hey, I’m adaptable! (You, back there–stop laughing.) I could test out the new Swiffer and just not take pictures. Except, I could not test out the Swiffer, because I was attacked. And killed.
By this thing. Could you live in the face of that? You could not. In fact, now you’re dead, too.
When I was trying to convince my camera that really the batteries were fresh, I got that one picture. About half a second later, a tongue was firmly lodged inside my nostril.
As for the Swiffer, well, there were two problems. First, the interloper keeps trying to eat the dust bunnies. So there’s not a lot to, er, Swiff, up. Second, when I DO try to get to the ones she hasn’t snorfed up? She tries to kill the Swiffer. Which would probably irritate me if I wasn’t so busy laughing my ass off, because there is nothing funnier than a 12-pound blob of fur convinced both that she is ferocious and that your pseudo-mop must be terrorized into submission.
No, she is not ours. She’s on loan while our friends are away, and every time she follows me around and lunges at me in ecstasy and an uncontrollable urge to coat me in puppy saliva I die all over again, because she is so cute and good and sweet and it is really, really nice to have someone around the house who loves me unconditionally.
All this time I thought I needed a man. I just needed a loaner puppy!
I thought I’d reached my maximum limit of cuteness-related deaths, today, but I was wrong. Unlike the last time we dogsat–when the relative ratio of dogness to children was quite high–this little puppy is just my kids’ speed. They adore her and play with her and want to know whyyyyy weeeee don’t have a dooooog anymore and wheeeeen can weeeeee get our oooooown puppy. And to top it all off, the little girl who complains if I ask her to close the car door after herself (“Why do I ALWAYS have to close the door??”) has appointed herself Ultimate Puppy Mommy.
Chickadee croons to this puppy and scratches behind her ears and gently but sternly tells her to “drop it” when she picks up any one of the thousand pieces of toys left on the floor that are not good for puppies to eat. It snowed and was windy and miserable here today and Chickadee insisted on taking the dog outside for me. She bundled up, uncomplaining, each time… grabbed the leash and headed out into the snow… and when she slipped on some ice and fell because the dog pulled her too hard, she got up LAUGHING.
My daughter has been REPLACED! She’s like a pod girl! And… I feel different, too! It’s The Invasion of the Grumpy Snatchers!
So I died again, and now I’m just about the most dead you can be and still type and rub a soft puppy belly with your foot.
Let me recommend fostering puppies. We do it on an occasional basis. You get the most adorable puppies, you keep them for a week, and then they’re adopted. So you always have puppies. You can sit a lot, or not that much. http://www.pawsafe.org is where we foster. We’ve had the CUTEST puppies you’ve ever seen, and they are so grateful to be in a house. A lot are mostly housebroken and they are great with kids.
I’m convince that Swiffer is trying to take over the world. One swipe at a time. I love my swiffer, but really how many do you need?
Cute dog. Sorry about dying. That sucks.
Can’t you keep the puppy? Your friends don’t REALLY need her back, do they?? Ahem.
You’re right. I’ve died. That is the cutest f-ing thing. Ever.
So. Damn. Dead.
You are not dead. You are just a big fakey faker. You are just faking to try and get out of the whole “cutting of the boob” thingy, but they won’t believe you. The puppy will sell you out every time.
Puppies are like that. It’s why we all need more puppies in our lives. Little puppy bellies are like a glimpse of heaven, aren’t they?
There are certain things a man is good for (adult conversation) there are other things a dog is better for (24 / 7 unconditional love and companionship.) You should get one of each Mir, althought the puppy fostering thing is a good idea and you’re doing another community service.
Why doesn’t my swiffer work like they do on tv? Why doesn’t my magic eraser, erase better? And do you have to use different detergent for a front loader washer? The mysteries of modern life.
That’s an OK way to die. I can think of worse. But we’ll miss you.
This is absurd but my friend’s mom used the swiffer wetjet (did they really get to trademark wetjet? I wanted that name for my next child) and the scary chemicals actually made her dog sick. Which freaked my friend out no end–she’s the kind of person who eats all organic food.
So maybe don’t let your dog lick the scary wetjet goo?
Dude, sorry to wake you from the dead, but, A WET JET? I ain’t got no stinkin’ WET JET from these folks. Where’s my WET JET? You may resume your position, now.
I still have no swiffer. And hard wood floors galore! Well, not galore, because we live in New Mexico, and for some bizarre reason the floor refinishers assumed we’d want DULL finish like every other New Mexican…you know, the ones with the rustic-style houses…so they’re definitely not galore. I think I’ve digressed.
VERY cute – excuse the pun/reinterpretation of the word – story!! : )
“And that’s why they call it puppy love…” Can I borrow the puppy next?
The picture is adorable. I love your site and sense of humor–just started visiting a few weeks ago. Hope the boob gets better.
oh my goodness! I need that puppy!Give me that face! Animals are extremely therapeudic aren’t they?! I used to foster mamma kitties and their babies for our Humane Society-awesome experience. Btw-your journey through medical boobland is very similar to mine a few years ago I’m fine and you will be as well-good luck anyway. Can’t have too many people giving up the good vibes for you-right?
That’s the GOOD kind of dead! So fargin’ cute!!! If she had a spotty belly, you might have to lock her up because I’d have to come steal her ;-)
Wonderful reaction from Chickadee! Fostering might be a good idea for therapy for her. Maybe having a dog in the house all the time would lose its power, but an occasional visitor might work wonders?
I love that you had to pin her between your legs to get the picture. And I can tell that your feet were getting thoroughly ‘dusted’ as your held her there.
She does look like the moment that she has a bit of wriggle room, she is going to kiss your face off.
Weird — my camera is doing the exact same thing!
A new puppy really would be a great addition…if someone else trains it! :-) The eyes on that puppy melt your heart!
I think I should be able to borrow the puppy before Nic.
I need it!
Accckkkkk! That face! OMG I just died!
My digital camera is doing the exact same thing. Can you figure out what is wrong for me, I am going with if I “forgetting” it, might just fix itself stance.
Just recently, some friends and I were discussing how good it would be to have Bunny Stops on every corner. Imagine, boxes on stands holding 2 or 3 bunnies that any one could pet for however long they needed. How calm would the world be with all that Bunny Love free-floating in the air?
We also thought a good business to start would be “kitten therapy.” Pay, say $5, go into a softly lit, softly furnished room and play with about 10 kittens for 15 minutes. Fluffy purry pouncy goodness for the soul.
If cats aren’t your cup of tea then you can go to the Puppy Garden. Sit in the sun on some grass while 15 or so puppies try to wrassle you to the ground.
Antihistamines provided at the door, of course.
If a daily course of that does not lower your blood pressure then perhaps exploratory surgery is indicated to what type of concrete has embedded it self in your heart.