What The Hell Wednesday
Wednesdays are great for Wordless and Wordful posts, but we decided to go a different route and create our own Wednesday fun. We figured what the hell. That’s how we started What The Hell Wednesday. Who are we kidding? That’s pretty much how we decide on almost everything. If you want to play along, grab our button on the sidebar, link up to us in your post and don’t forget to sign in to the linky below. Really, what the hell?
Elle
In hindsight, staying up until 1am with Perry the Wonder Dog may not have been my best idea. Giving him a bath and a haircut has been on my Pre-Road-trip To Do List, but I wasn’t planning on starting at 10pm last night. It all started because Perry was having some “issues”. Because he needed a haircut, his fur was a little too long on his back end which caused said issues. Apparently, this is very depressing to dogs, or maybe just to Perry. I really don’t know. I was trying to walk him last night but he didn’t even want to walk. He would just lie there in the grass, in the dark with his head on his paws looking sad. This is usually a dog that could give a Jack Russell on speed a run for his money. Even though it was already after 10, I knew it meant bath time. What the Hell??!! I’ll spare you the gory details and just say it involved rubber gloves, warm soapy water, and scissors. I brought him back upstairs to dry him off and since he was sitting on my lap I started trimming his fur a little at a time and much to my surprise he let me! All the other times, grooming him has meant sedatives (not for me, for him, although afterwards I could probably use one) and another person to hold him. I took advantage of the situation and just kept cutting. Before I knew it, it was 1am. Looking at him this morning, he doesn’t look too bad but I’m exhausted.
Sometimes in the middle of the night when I should be sleeping, but can’t, my mind wanders to some weird thoughts. I have always said I just want my children to be happy when they are adults and that is all that is important, but that isn’t exactly true. I would have a real problem if one of my children announced that they were going to join the circus to be a clown. I hate clowns! C’mon, admit it, they are just so creepy! So, as long as none of my children become clowns, we are good. Unless…… one of them gets a pet monkey. Okay, monkeys, clowns, and monkey-owning clowns are out, but I can deal with anything else.
