When my husband is away...

Mike took Aly on a summer adventure - the second one since we returned from Jamaica, and this means I've been home alone and in charge of the house, and by extension, the dogs. Every time I move they jump up and follow me. I'm like the freakin' Pied Piper in my own house. Then there was the Kirby escape incident while I paid the pizza man. He's part whippet. Kirby, not the pizza man. That means he runs fast and far. But here's the latest.

I could not fall asleep. Part of it was the three Excedrin for my headache and part was excitement for my scrapbook trip with the girls Wednesday morning. I listened to white noise. I got a cold pack. I turned the tv off. I drank water. Then I had to pee. And for the first time EVER I peed in my bathroom in this house without turning the light on. No, I didn't miss the seat, but I tripped over the dog on the way to wash my hands. I could've cracked my head open, I told Charlie the border collie as he waited by the bed. But seriously, I dozed off finally around 1:30. And the dogs went bat shit crazy and woke me up soon after. I don't know why. Charlie acting like an axe murderer was in the house, and Scrappy yipping because he woke her up. I just yelled for them to shut up. Ugh.

More white noise. More water. So 2:00, finally asleep. Until 4:00. Charlie barked so loud I was in the living room before I was even awake. What is it boy? What's wrong?? And he brings me an effing hedgehog toy while Scrappy runs around him and yips. So I start to go back to bed, but realize Kirby isn't barking. Or running around. And I hear a whine.

I check to see if his fat butt is stuck under the bed. He likes the darkness under the bed, but Mike has been fattening him up so he can't run so far (not working, by the way), so his butt sticks out. No. The bathroom. I open the door and the stench of anxiety-crap hits me in the face. The trash is everywhere. Travel Yeti has been chewed (because I put my overnight bag in the bathroom to keep it away from the dogs). And there's a pile of crap in the middle of the floor. The carpeted part, not the tile.

So I clean up, thankful that it wasn't Charlie, because Yeti would be disemboweled and the cabinets would be chewed off. I head back to bed, and they're having a party. Reunited and it feels so good. It is like six tap dancing midgets in the living room. And they want to go out. Outside. At four in the morning. So I let them out. And in.

And then I get up at 6:00 and there's a pile of crap in the dining room.

This is why I need a vacation with the girls.