For reals, this blog, my house, my kids, the Mr, me... we might not make it. Here's why...
Our city is precariously on the verge of massive flooding and duh, it's all the fault of my husband - or so says John Q Citizen - so he's going in to work early, coming home way late, working Saturdays. This leads to #1 - if I want to get my run in then it has to start at 5am instead of 6am. #2 - he's ass tired and much less likely to come home and cook us dinner. I know, slacker, right? In the end he's tired, I'm tired and now, #3 we're all hungry.
Also a by-product of impending natural disaster, the shelter where I volunteer is holding animals from evacuated flood areas for people, aw, how sweet. Except that now the shelter is evacuating, bummer. All the county animals are fostered by volunteers - yep, me included. We have Rosco, a chocolate lab about the same size as Brody. What's an extra 100 pounds of dog in the grand scheme of things? The two proverbial bulls in the china shop got along famously until last night when the question of dominance was ferociously settled when Brody snapped and pulled a Mike Tyson on Rosco. His ear bled profusely for an hour plus. I broke it to my husband that if I ever disappear he's going to prison because there is blood e v e r y w h e r e. Better alter your escape plan, baby. Clearly Brody is an asshole so I took Rosco back to the make-shift shelter in tears today.
And finally, my kid sister - she loves it when I call her that - is here with her two sons. They are moving here to our fine flooded city and are staying at our house until all their stuff is delivered. So let's recap this chaos - four little boys ages 3 to 7, two 100 pound dogs, and three rather traumatized adults under the same roof. Feel sorry for us yet? Now you know why I just now approved comments from Monday here on ye ol' blog.