The Gods Clearly Hate Me

In case I was confused, this morning is a perfect reminder as to why I'm soooo not having children.

Sunday night I got off work at 10pm. Got home, loaded up the dog and met Jess over at the dog park. Jess has a German Shepard (Raine) and a Papillon (London). The dog park is technically closed after 10pm, but it's completely fenced in and just happens to be the size of a running track. So we kind of ignore the rules. So we run and chat and walk and run again. Bodhi, Raine and London follow us, or run ahead of us or ignore us completely and just pee on everything. Which they should, it's a dog park. It's really adorable to watch London run with us on her little legs. She can keep up, but only if she doesn't lose focus.

I'm slightly scared that she will run too hard for her little body and have a heart attack. But she seemed to handle 3 miles just fine. Better then me actually. It's distressing to see a five pound dog at me with pity while I huff and puff.

So last night we run. We finish about midnight, Bodhi and I find our way home. I have a been having a hard sleeping lately, so I've been taking sleeping pills. Not a huge deal, except for the fact that while i'm sleeping I am out. Completely. The zombies could rise and I would just roll over and pull the blankets over my head.

The Boy gets home about 7am. He takes the dog out for another walk. Cursing the whole time about living in apartments and three flights of stairs. Or so I assume. As I said, I was out, like a light.

At 9am Bodhi started to cry. Have you heard a dog whimper and whine? It's really pathetic sounding. I was in such a deep sleep that I heard it in my dreams first. When I finally woke up I stumbled out of the room, peered around, saw that the dog had food and water, peered at the dog and stumbled back into the room.

"Matt! Did you walk the dog when you got home?!"
"mumble mumble"
"Matt!"
"mumble mumble yes"

I turned to the dog.

"He says he walked you. I have a fuzzy memory of running at a dog park with you.
So you are clearly well fed, exercised and have had plenty of time to poop. GO TO BED."

I fell into the bed.

Possibly moments later we hear a crash.
My first and only thought was oh no the book cases. We're in the middle of moving, so all my books have been packed away but the empty bookcases are still in the living room, looking forlorn. So I figured the crash was one of those falling over. I thought about getting up again, but really, if it had already fallen over what good would I be doing by putting it back up? It would just fall over again. And any mess it created could clearly wait.
Thank Hera the boy dragged himself out of bed to investigate. I heard a moment of yelling, a moment of whining and then the boy falling back into bed.

Two hours later my alarm went off. I stumbled out of bed. I opened my bedroom door.
AND WALKED INTO A WALL OF STENCH.

Bodhi had been crying because he was sick. Like, food poisoning sick. You know the kind that makes you so sick that all the poison comes out both ends. Bodhi finally gave up on making it out doors and proceeded to vomit and poop all over the living room.

As I was gagging I tried to look for Bodhi. There was so much shit (literally) that I was afraid I would find a dying dog who I would have to hold and cry because I didn't believe him and some how this was all my fault. Luckily I found him cowering under the table, sure that he was in trouble for making a mess.

I felt so awful. Oh my god I'm a terrible person. So I hugged him, petted him, made sure he wasn't still sick (he wasn't) and then realized that I had exactly five minutes to get ready if I was going to make it work on time. So I run in the bedroom, tell the boy the bad news and dash out the door.

The Boy wakes up seven hours later to go to work. Stumbles out of bed. Opens the bedroom door.
AND WALKS INTO A WALL OF STENCH.

He does a quick clean up then dashes out the door to work.

Cut to midnight last night. I walk in the door to find a pathetic looking dog. Although most of the poop and vomit were gone the smell and the stains remained. Lingered. Preeminent. Bodhi didn't like the smell anymore then we do. There was only one option. I donned my gas mask and took to scrubbing.

Oh My God.

The carpet is ruined. I'm still grossed out hours later. The stench is a living things, stalking me from room to room. I'm hiding in the bedroom and scared to go out and face the living room. Bodhi just cowers under the table.

And all this happened because The Boy and I decided to sleep through Bodhi's warning. Clearly we will be terrible parents.