Normally on Sundays, it’s errand day. There’s mass in the morning, followed by religious education until noon, then the weekly grocery/necessities run and then the ATM to pull out my rent money for the week (landlady only takes cash!) Today just caps off the weekend “adventures” though as I recover from late work nights and a stomach bug plus ongoing migraines that seem to not have let up for 2 months straight. That’s why right now I am not doing a damn thing besides taking some time to myself after playing in the warm summer rainstorm that just passed over, enjoying the cool air on my wet hair and recounting what a crazy weekend it’s been.
I didn’t wake up until 10:30 this morning after writing late (I freelance writing SEO content for websites). Fresh coffee was on and my breakfast wrap (sausage, egg & cheese, my favourite) was waiting in the microwave for me. After getting the sleep out of my head, I walked out to find my landlady under the kitchen sink trying to get the faucet unhooked to replace it. Of course I got recruited to help, so I did the clean work and held the flashlight for her, handing her tools. The faucet the neighbor gave her to replace it though was the wrong type and she spent the next hour struggling to get the old broken one back on.
When she turned the water on, it was spraying everywhere under the sink. She’d given up trying to get the pieces to fit back together any tighter. That convinced her that she needed to turn the water back off and do it right this time. There is still no water in the kitchen sink because that faucet for some reason has been slowing down for a couple weeks and now just produces nothing. So after breakfast, I washed my coffee mug in the shower (now the only working water in the house) and am settled at my computer just waiting for a new job to post for the web content.
Mind you, during this plumbing fiasco, someone had dropped by unannounced to see the room she’s posted for rent. He was chased off pretty fast by the state of the house, but not before he asked us if we were single. What kind of creep was that? Not one that we want in the house, that’s for sure.
Today’s craziness follows yesterday’s in a symphony of “I should have stayed in bed.” Yesterday while I was working on a website, fully concentrated in my content research so that I did not hear my landlady leaving to go to the store, all of a sudden I am ripped from my work by the sound of my favourite dog screaming at the top of her lungs. I slammed my computer shut and ran out to see what was going on and found the dog stuck with her foot in the bottom of the outer porch door in an absolute struggle to free it with paint everywhere (I’ll get to that in a minute). I freed the dog, grabbed her and immediately started washing the paint out of her mouth and off her as best as I could while the other dog (also covered in paint) ran to hide. Once the stuck dog was calmed and partially cleaned off, I checked her foot and nothing was broken. She was walking ok, just freaked out.
Taking a moment to assess the situation, I went back out to the porch to try to figure out what the hell just happened. There had been a gallon of white paint apparently knocked over and kicked around in her struggle and it had spilled and sprayed everywhere. Imagine two dogs and a gallon of paint in a blender. That’s what it looked like when I ran out to her screams. I had no idea how I was going to start cleaning the paint off everything – it was a half inch thick coating the enclosed porch, so I left it and tried to call my landlady, only her phone had been left behind. She got home just at that moment and had a “WTF?!” pause before dragging the hose into the porch and starting to disburse the paint. As she started sweeping the wet, white mess out of the porch, I secured both dogs outside and hosed them off completely, restoring their natural colour.
With the dogs cleaned and all the paint hosed off the porches, we sat trying to figure out what had happened. The best we can tell is the dogs were sleeping on the inside porch and someone tried to come in the outer door. Ceri, the big dog, would have rushed the door at the first sound and that would have scared the person enough to slam the door on her foot. There was no way, as far and as solidly as her foot was caught, that she could have done that herself. The door is too hard to push open at the bottom when it’s closed and even I could not force it open as far as her foot was caught. It was obvious during her struggle the paint got kicked over, slammed around and emptied. The takeaway: Ceri protected me from an attempted home invasion and got hurt in the process but she kept someone from entering the house. GOOD DOG!!!
Seriously. This dog is my hero. She gets a sno-cone.