I love Fridays. Friday afternoons around 5:30, most especially (intended redundancy - I love it that much). It's especially nice when my drive home is in the twilight, which makes me think that it will soon be light for the drive (which also means more work time at home - bonus!), there is no asshat two feet behind me on a very winding road with his bright lights on for eleven point two miles, and there's just the ever-so-slight whiff of spring in the air. I have two almost whole days to spend with my furry, woolly and feathered crew, and two days of extra lattes in the morning! Woohoo! I pull into the carport, grab my various bags and do the happy dance to the front door.
I open the front door and....oh, the smell.
Apparently, Bertie consumed something that did not agree with him. It apparently did not agree with him in a violent manner, as in blasting out both ends. The poor, poor boy had been trapped in his crate with the end results all day.
At 11:30 PM (well past my bedtime) after washing dog bedding, Bertie and disinfecting the entire inside of his crate - along with all the regular chores and cooking up some rice for B's compromised intestinal tract, I was finally straggling to bed, where I spent the next three hours sleeping fitfully, one ear on alert for all-is-not-well sounds, until I finally gave up trying. Bertie drank a gallon of water and slept like a log for hours. Oh, I wish. I had to do errands and didn't want to leave him in his crate or at home unattended, so he went with me. You would never know he had been sick - he was the picture of glistening health, bright brown eyes, shiny red coat, brand new collar. Then, there was his mother....nuff said.
I was really, really looking forward to an early bedtime Saturday night. I had managed to drag through the day and get a few things done so it wasn't a total loss, but I was knackered. Then....the temps went from 69 to 29. With a very fast cold front and ensuing violent storm in between. Which also meant that the power went out. I have heard howling wind, but I have not heard shrieking wind since I sat through a tornado in Texas many, many moons ago. The wind shrieked. Then the rains came through horizontally. I sat on my chair and a half with three dogs and two cats and my headlamp illuminating my knitting. Sleep was not an option. I did doze off after the storm stopped and everyone had gone back to their personal furniture (except The Pepperoni, who is perpetually glued to my side). At midnight, I gave up and went to bed, only to be awakened by all the lights coming on at 3:30AM. Le sigh.
I spent almost all of Sunday getting my laundry done, the house tidied and dinner organized for company at 3 (all my 80+ friends don't like to drive in the dark). I then spent the next two hours cleaning up, then did chores, then more knitting until 9, then pranced off to bed with a clear conscience. I didn't wake up until almost 6! Which, while a completely glorious and much-needed 9 hours of sleep, put me behind the eight-ball for a Monday morning.
Ah, well. There's always next weekend....