My grossly neglected dogs (who have punished me for recent lack-of-attention by killing birds, eating bad Halloween candy and vomiting aluminum wrappers all over the floor under the table, and other manifestations of evil) had a vet appointment today. Both survived their respective tortures: Chewy is prone to ear infections: he has one (and it's pretty gross) so they shaved the hair in his ears, cleaned the infected one thoroughly (takes 2 people, dude) and clipped his nails for me.
Thor needed his nails clipped: he's a goddamn drama queen and SCREAMS when the techs clip him. Not the normal Shepherd whining: full on "OHMYGODTHEY'RERIPPINGMYSKINOFF!!" screaming and howling. Sigh. For fucking TOENAILS. Diva.
I felt guilty, therefore after becoming a narcotics dealer at Walgreens I picked up McNuggets for them. I was rewarded with drool down the back of my neck. Assholes.
Anyway...today is spoda be cleaning day, right? Because having been gone for two months my office and the corners of my house are...dusty. I have fabulous aunts who came to clean last weekend, but this place needs more than a quick once-over...so today was going to be cleaning extravaganza.
Because I'm supposed to be writing for NaNoWriMo...and I'm a MASTER (Mistress?) procrastinator. Seriously. If this was college I'd wait until 11/29 and try desperately to cram 50,000 words between 10pm and midnight. Hey, it worked for my Greek and Roman history classes...Except when I argued that Achilles was a bitchy whining teenager who basically took his friends and pouted on the beach because Agamemnon TOOK HIS TOY away.
Agamemnon: dude, your sex slave is hotter than mine and I'm an asshole, so I'm taking her.
Achilles: Fine, dick. I'm taking my Myrmidons and going home. Fuck you and the ship you sailed in on, and good luck taking down Troy without me.
Note Achilles didn't really care about the GIRL (although Hollywood desperately tried to make it look that way in Troy, which was horrid and should never be watched by anyone unless it's ONLY to see Brad Pitt and Bruce Banner (who's real name escapes me) nearly naked). He cared that Agamemnon took the equivalent of a blond Tonka truck away before he was done.
Yup, MASTER PROCRASTINATOR over here. I got a C on that paper...because my professor was offended that I called Achilles on his crappy behavior. I'm not sorry.
In case you're wondering, the cat hair in the vet's office has me sneezing like a goddamn faucet today (yay for unsexy snotface) and yet I STILL managed to: become a drug dealer (only to my husband, who is legally on prescribed narcotics, police-type readers. I swear: I have the prescription), torture the dogs, clean the upstairs bathroom, tell my mom Happy Birthday, take out the garbage AND make homemade apple crisp.
All of this while my fucking pants keep falling down. Sigh. Inappropriate, but husband finds it amusing.
That's right. I'm goddamn Wonder Woman without the neat lasso...or Amazon heritage.