This 'no walking' thing is impossible with 4 horribly behaved puppies.
Especially when you wake up to great piles of crap you have to pick up.
Then, if dealing with that didn't hurt enough, at first glance, I thought there was vomit all over the couch.
Upon nearing the sofa, I found out otherwise.
No, it was my entire bag of quinoa strewn from one end to the other.
Do you know how hard it is to sweep up quinoa?
It becomes static and flies everywhere when you brush it. It doesn't go into the sweeping pan.
You know Mexican Jumping Beans? It's sorta the same.
So, after I picked up the great masses of dog droppings on the floor, ...
... have you SEEN the size of the thug and the donkey?!?! imagine the poops ...
... I went to work on the quinoa.
Only to find, somebody with four legs had peed on the other side of the couch.
We're back to that again now, are we? I thought we passed that puppy phase and everyone was allowed back on the couch again!
Oh, this couch is not ours.
The crap was beside it.
The piss was on it, and yes, there was quinoa in the piddle.
The quinoa was torn apart and pushed from one end to the other, and I sure hope the Fuzzy Family had a good time with the quinoa party, destroying a good chunk of my food that I don't have the strength to get up and cook.
No, this couch is not ours.
It belongs to them.
Those stinky little bastards we love so much.
How do we love such horrible creatures?!?!?!?
I did my best and cleaned up the crap, sopped up the piss, pouring vinegar on in hopes of squelching the putrid aroma that will fester in this heat for days to come, then swept as much quinoa as the pain would allow me.
"Rest. No walking," the surgeon said.
Right.
I'll get to that after I go speak with Our Fave's Mom and Little Angel who are at the gate.
They know how to reel me in, and I'm just not rude enough to wave people away.
Sure, I'll walk so you can show me the gorgeous little boy with eyes from the heavens that entice me into watching this little tyke grow.
Oh, make sure to bring WeeHeart with all her enchanting energy as well, so that I couldn't possibly say, "I can't talk today," and follow my doctor's orders.
And for sure, bring along someone from the village so that I can't have a private conversation with you about the fact that your family has been lying to us and we can't be godparents with dishonest people.
"Rest. No walking."
Who the hell on this earth can do this?!?!? Can you?!?!? How the fuck is this even possible?!?!?
If you know how to do this, please, enlighten me.
"Rest. No walking."
Sure, right after I let the people in to come fix the washing machine, because our clothes stink so bad, you can smell them in Canada.
"Rest. No walking."
Oh look! Pescado Pal is at the gate wanting to sell me his hard working wares he caught in the ocean.
I've been up since 9, but it's now 12:30 and this is the first time I've rested my ankle.
"Rest. No walking."
Well, my foot looks pretty swollen again. This is not a good sign.
Neither is the pain that's shooting, or the throbbing that accompanies it.
Oh, but I'll rest.
Later.
Especially when you wake up to great piles of crap you have to pick up.
Then, if dealing with that didn't hurt enough, at first glance, I thought there was vomit all over the couch.
Upon nearing the sofa, I found out otherwise.
No, it was my entire bag of quinoa strewn from one end to the other.
Do you know how hard it is to sweep up quinoa?
It becomes static and flies everywhere when you brush it. It doesn't go into the sweeping pan.
You know Mexican Jumping Beans? It's sorta the same.
So, after I picked up the great masses of dog droppings on the floor, ...
... have you SEEN the size of the thug and the donkey?!?! imagine the poops ...
... I went to work on the quinoa.
Only to find, somebody with four legs had peed on the other side of the couch.
We're back to that again now, are we? I thought we passed that puppy phase and everyone was allowed back on the couch again!
Oh, this couch is not ours.
The crap was beside it.
The piss was on it, and yes, there was quinoa in the piddle.
The quinoa was torn apart and pushed from one end to the other, and I sure hope the Fuzzy Family had a good time with the quinoa party, destroying a good chunk of my food that I don't have the strength to get up and cook.
No, this couch is not ours.
It belongs to them.
Those stinky little bastards we love so much.
How do we love such horrible creatures?!?!?!?
I did my best and cleaned up the crap, sopped up the piss, pouring vinegar on in hopes of squelching the putrid aroma that will fester in this heat for days to come, then swept as much quinoa as the pain would allow me.
"Rest. No walking," the surgeon said.
Right.
I'll get to that after I go speak with Our Fave's Mom and Little Angel who are at the gate.
They know how to reel me in, and I'm just not rude enough to wave people away.
Sure, I'll walk so you can show me the gorgeous little boy with eyes from the heavens that entice me into watching this little tyke grow.
Oh, make sure to bring WeeHeart with all her enchanting energy as well, so that I couldn't possibly say, "I can't talk today," and follow my doctor's orders.
And for sure, bring along someone from the village so that I can't have a private conversation with you about the fact that your family has been lying to us and we can't be godparents with dishonest people.
"Rest. No walking."
Who the hell on this earth can do this?!?!? Can you?!?!? How the fuck is this even possible?!?!?
If you know how to do this, please, enlighten me.
"Rest. No walking."
Sure, right after I let the people in to come fix the washing machine, because our clothes stink so bad, you can smell them in Canada.
"Rest. No walking."
Oh look! Pescado Pal is at the gate wanting to sell me his hard working wares he caught in the ocean.
I've been up since 9, but it's now 12:30 and this is the first time I've rested my ankle.
"Rest. No walking."
Well, my foot looks pretty swollen again. This is not a good sign.
Neither is the pain that's shooting, or the throbbing that accompanies it.
Oh, but I'll rest.
Later.
i am capable of making healthy choices
If you are supposed to stay off your ankle, because if you don't it won't heal properly, then guess who is supposed to be doing all the stuff you're currently doing? I think you know. It's part of the deal when people become life partners.
ReplyDeleteeverything happens in the mornings when papi isn't up. it's so frustrating that all of life calms down the moment he gets out of bed. i wish he were on a regular sleeping schedule. i really do.
DeleteNo reason he couldn't get on a more daytime-oriented schedule, right? I mean, what is there to stay up for? I imagine the locals run mostly from sunrise to sunset.
DeleteYou have a need. He is your husband. End of story.
oh doll, he has been working very hard to get on a schedule. at least he's asleep by 3 now. he's been on night shift for so many years he can't get past it.
Deleteplus he stays up to guard our home. the guards here are the ones who rob you, so he is our guard. but we're feeling like we're more safe, so at least he's not up until the sun now. it's getting better.
i completely get what you're saying. i wish it were an easy fix.