Today was a busy day at the Garden. I was surprised to see so many people there for lunch. We did some book work in the morning and then started serving around 11. Wow, it got very busy very quickly. Our trainer Mandy, myself, and the other trainee, Kelli, had four tables to serve. For majority of the time there were 16 people we were serving. You don't realize how many people that is until they all need drink and breadstick refills. And don't even get me started on the tray carrying-- I can't do it. I am a small little girl; if not for my giant knockers, I would wear little girl things. My 12-year-old SIL is bigger than me. So when it comes lifting ginormous trays loaded with giant plates loaded with large servings of pasta, I am not the person to do the job. The problem? That is my job now. So I need to practice lifting and carrying trays with ONE hand and my shoulder. Yes, I see some practice in my future.
So after a crazy busy day running around (and sampling delicious classic recipes and wines) I came home to
my perfect dog Finnegan a pile of dog popp on the rug. Giant pile, of both runny and hard poop. On the rug that was in a pile in the entry way because he threw up on it last night and it needed to be washed. Boy did it need to be washed now. Finn knew he had done something wrong, he didn't even try jumping up on me, he just sat there with that guilty look in his eyes. And it's hard to be mad when I know he knows what he did was wrong, but boy was I mad. As I walked further into the apartment, there it was - more poop. Little dots of runny poop throughout the kitchen. like he was just walking around with a leaky bum. That or he stepped in a bit of it and then walked around the house. And there was more; under my desk chair. How did he manage to poop under my desk chair?! There is not space back there for a naughty puppy *read: 3-year-old* to squat and take another leaky dump. So I took the rug into the bathroom, flushed the poop, then went at the floor with cleaner on my hands and knees. Did I mention how mad I was? I won't post the pictures I sent to Curt...
Finn doesn't do this, he can go for hours without being out. We have left him for very long days and he has been fine. Why now? Why me? Why when Curt is gone? I think he's harboring hatred for me leaving him two mornings in a row and staying gone all day. I'm not gone that long, I just think he is very lonely without anyone else around. Because he also managed to get the sheet on our couch all the way off the top and even rip one of the pillows, like he was just running back and forth on the top of the couch like a tasmanian devil. Devil is the right word- my mom calls him the diablo dog; I can't disagree.
As mad as I am about his unacceptable behavior, Curt is still gone and he is the only thing I have to keep me company for the next week. So he gives me his puppy eyes and I forgive him. Until I remember that I have to go outside to go downstairs to put the rugs in the dryer. It's raining outside, I don't want to go out, which also means he probably won't be getting a walk, which I think is the exact opposite of what he needs right now.
What I need right now is my husband and a bottle of wine all to myself. I have neither, unfortunately, but I do have mint chocolate chip ice cream and leftover baked ziti, so I guess I'll just have to cope. Where did the night go, it's already almost 7?! My current timeline is leaving me wanting more hours in a day.
Enough time wasted blogging. No one reads it anyway, but it's good enough for me to vent. I'm going to get some ice cream, baste the baby quilt, and maybe then if I'm feeling generous, Finn will get his walk after all.