A Good Day After All

This has shaped up to be a pretty great day. I had my doubts, though, in the pre-dawn hours of this morning when I was rather rudely awakened by the sound of poor FurGirl yacking up what turned out to be a putrid brown pile of goo. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, I sprang from the bed in a half conscious panic to herd her outside in case there was more coming.

After that, I tiptoed back to the bed, eyes half-mast, in the hope of recapturing another hour or so of sleeping in and also to make sure to circumvent the goo (which, by now, was starting to smell kind of bad). I toyed briefly with the idea of cleaning up the mess, but oh my gosh, there would be NO getting back to sleep after that gross-out fest, I told myself, as I nodded back off for a few minutes before having to get up yet AGAIN and let FurGirl back in and repeat the whole tiptoeing/half-mast process back to the bed (yes, my powers of staying asleep are mighty).

As I nodded off a second time, I smiled a little, because, just before I drifted off, I could hear the unmistakable sounds of FurGirl enthusiastically lapping up her own puke and by the time I awoke for good at a more civilized hour, the dog was asleep, the brown goo was gone, the sun was shining, and it was like the whole thing never happened.

Ah, the joys of dog ownership! You'll never find a cat stupid enough to eat its own vomit.

I had lunch in the big city of Metropolis with friends Rhonda and Grasshoppa (so named because of her tender age) which was quite enjoyable and then Grasshoppa graciously helped me download a new ringtone (color me redneck, but the intro to "Sweet Home Alabama" always makes me smile) and toured me around her groovy new place--she has even laid herself a brick patio! (I'm not sure I ever had that much energy.)

Then it was on to see my stylist, Amberly, who completely whipped my hair into way better shape.

If only my hair looked like this every day.