My X-mas holiday consisted of working for the catering company and dog sitting, 5 dogs. I won't bore you with the catering stuff as I don't have any stories from those gigs. What I will tell you about is my 1st night to feed the dogs.
These are 5 hungry dogs. I had already met them and gone through the feeding instructions with Ron. What I didn't do before the Perry's left town is check the key to make sure it worked. I have a long history of copied keys & front doors & nothing working, apparently, this information is buried somewhere in my subconscious...
Friday evening I was meeting a girlfriend of mine in town for the holiday. My plan was HH with Christine then swing by the doghouse on my way home. Everything was fine & dandy until Christine managed to spill my red wine on me. (Why does time stand still when red wine is in mid-air and taking direct aim at a white shirt?) Needless to say we were done catching up.
Now off to feed the herd of hungry dogs. Get to the house and it's pitch dark. Thanks Ron for NOT leaving the porch light on. Fumble for the key start feeling around for the doorknob. Turn key, nothing. Wiggle key, nothing. Curse key, nothing. Finally, some movement...oh, that's the direction to lock the door, not unlock. First F-bomb dropped while being serenaded by hungry dogs. Call Ron (I'm real grumpy at this point), did you check this key? He says, yeah, it should work, but if not walk to the side of the house and the gate door is held by a sandbag you should be able to move it if you push hard enough. Did I mention the outfit I was wearing? Well, my cute fitted jeans with snake skin heels. This is not an outfit meant for 'off-roading.' Just to give you a better picture.
I try to move sandbag...again, nothing. I look at the gate and think I can scale this thing. I climb it heels and all. Get to the top assess the situation and make sure the dogs aren't the protective kind. All's clear in the backyard...start to go down the other side. Wait there's a nail caught in the crotch of my jeans. Another F-bomb is dropped. Do a little maneuvering and jeans are cleared. Now I'm in the backyard. Let's just say they could stand to level the yard a little or post a sign saying- you may not want to wear your cute high heels in yard...just a thought.
Now I've made it to the back door. I opt to stick my hand through the doggie door to triple check these aren't protective dogs. Nothing. Alright, I'm now crawling through the doggie door (this ain't my first rodeo...I have crawled through a doggie door before). Whew! I'm finally in.
Now it's the sprint to feed 5 dogs, keep them separated and I don't know what else. I'm real sure it looked like a 3 ring circus going on. I'm starting to relax a bit and think yippee, Ron showed me how to use the tv...I can enjoy some cable. This I considered an evening of luxury. Right, minus the fact I can't get the tv on. More F-bombs are dropped. Now, I think I will just relax on the comfy looking couch.
Let me explain this comfy looking couch. It's L-shaped and wide with some strange looking plastic runner thing on it. I think this is some nifty thing to keep the dogs from getting on it. OH, and nifty that little plastic thing was. I decide to fall into the couch without moving nifty plastic thing because I'm that lazy. This proves to be a poor decision on my part. I take the Nestea plunge into the couch. Oh, sh$t, f***, damn. This nifty plastic thing is shocking the hell out of my backside. WTF??? I can't even begin to explain the curse words flying out of my mouth and the worst part is the way I fell into the couch did not make for an easy get-off the couch movement. Everywhere I touch to lift myself up gets shocked. OH, DEAR LORD...it was like a butt/pet taser thing. I literally was going into cardiac arrest trying to free myself of this nifty little plastic thing.
When I was finally standing again I announced to the dogs my day sucked!!!