Muddy Butt Prints

*heaves a gigantic sigh*

This week is finally over, thank goodness. It’s been stressy-and-a-half in my world for the last 7-8 days or so and I need a break.

Last weekend we had the evil garbage sale that effectively sucked all of the fun out of those three days. Hell, if I’m being honest, it really wasn’t that fun setting up for it either. So let’s count 5 days down the drain for that.

Since Monday, work has been absolutely unbearable. I have a full load as it is, and I’m also covering for someone else while she’s on vacation. She happens to have a PITA client who is far too needy and helpless for my liking. Naturally, they’ve been bombing me all week…and I’ve found out over the past few days that these people have absolutely no idea what in the world they want. They seriously don’t have any concept what any of the information in their database means, and they rely far too heavily upon the knowledge of their rep. Cross your fingers that I don’t completely screw up this account beyond recognition by the time she’s back on the 24th.

Stuff at home has been crazy, as usual…but a little more so with the few things that are thrown slightly off kilter by the fact that our garage is still full of junk (I mean treasures) from the crap sale, and that the finished section of our basement is in complete disarray. The car is in the driveway, we’re actually locking our doors (though it might be a welcome surprise if we were to wake up to find that someone had taken our old stuff and saved us the trouble of donating it), and the dogs have to stay outside when Julie comes.

This is a big deal, by the way, if you are a bulldog. They’re usually in the basement, lounging on the futon, for a little while before Julie shows up each time. The beauty in this is that they never necessarily know when she comes in or leaves…providing blissful peace during these times, if you don’t count the tantrum-throwing toddler. The last few times Julie has been here, though, The Girls have been outside.

I, for one, would rather be outside than cooped up in the basement, were I given the choice. The Girls, however, take it as a personal attack that we are not allowing them to greet our guest in the traditional and oh-so-endearing nose-to-crotch, tail-wagging, snuffling way. For this, we are repaid by rhythmic body-slamming of the front door by Bubbles. In between slams, there’s always a tentative scratch from Sookie.

My front screen door is now covered in muddy paw and butt prints. Yep, butt prints. And it won’t wash off with just the hose…I’m going to have to give it a proper scrubbing. Classy.

So the plan for this weekend (after tonight’s dinner of nachos a la Dusty – highly recommended!! – and the conclusion of the Back to the Future trilogy)is to return some semblance of order to this funny farm we call home.

Wish me luck!