So I’ve been remiss in my blogging duties of late, and I really have no excuse, other than Netflix added a considerable number of BBC PBS specials. Forgive me, but I now know the details of Henry VIII’s home palace, and what one must do in order to protect the Queen’s Crown Jewels. (Are Crown Jewels capitalized? I feel like they should be.)
Anyhoo, I spent the week telling myself that I would not drive 15 miles to go to Caribou Coffee, unless there was a more valid reason to go to town. Luckily, this morning, I made one up, telling myself that I needed to buy body wash and face wash and curl cream made specifically for African-American tresses. (If I must, I will claim Africa as my motherland in order to use such products without being judged.) I decided to bring the dog with, since she receives puppy treats when going through the Caribou Coffee drive-thru.
When I came out from spending my allotted dollars for beauty products, I opened my truck door and was taken aback from the butt stench that wafted toward me. I discovered that puppy, (who took a massive dump before we left home) decided to take another dump, (in my truck), and without having anywhere else to retreat, stepped through it on the passenger seat and smeared it all the way across to the driver’s seat. (Um, ew does not begin to describe.)
I had bought an arsenal of Clorox wipes in the store, but alas! There is little that cleaning wipes can do in such a situation. I was forced to sit in the little bits of smushed feces that remained on my seat the entire ride home, windows open, and puppy looking sufficiently forlorn and embarrassed.
Upon arriving home, the dog got a hose-down with plenty of soap, and my poor truck got a scrubbing that I’m certain will not erase a certain odor d’Poo. Anybody want to buy a pretty yellow truck?
Sparklebumpsthebookwhore 