The other day I went in to my doctor’s office to go get the flu vaccine. Reluctantly. I have more than 20 nieces and nephews (no, I’m not exaggerating), many of them young school-aged (read: germ carriers). So my fear of getting knocked out sick was more than my fear of the flu shot. (They don’t give out lollipops any more when you get one, which is l.a.m.e.) So I get home and this is what I find:
My little 9-pound dog has dragged the trash bag I forgot to take out into the middle of the kitchen floor, and has opened it.
Yes, it is alarming that there is some yarn in the trash but I can tell you these were old color swatches I did when I was learning this dyeing stuff and I couldn’t look at it anymore.
I’d like to think Gracie was helping me by taking the trash out, but I doubt it. The week before she had chewed up everything in the bathroom trash bin. She is completely uninterested in chew toys–just trash.
She smelled for the rest of the evening–first like shrimp, then just general garbageness until I wiped her down with a doggie wipe. Yay, she is going for grooming tomorrow!