my unintentionally numbered days

I’m pretty sure I gave myself accidental Dust Destroyer inhalation disease. And if I Google that shit it better be a real thing doctors are working to cure because my days are obviously numbered.

I’m guessing I can sue my employer for this as well. Had it not been for the job they gave me and the Dust Destroyer they supplied me the above mentioned offense would not have occurred.

It’s all because my desk was intentionally placed (I believe) in the most unflattering position possible for discreetly searching the web at work. Someone obviously tipped my job off months, maybe years before I came along and they nailed my desk down and said I was going to sit this way. So a wild hair struck me, I thought I could possibly turn my monitor a certain way to make it more difficult for sneakers (and not your shoes, but those pesky rule followers at work) to see.

So I turned it, then went to the sneakers lookout, realized I could still see the monitor. Came back, turned it again, checked the lookout, gave up thinking there would ever be privacy for my internet actions.

Then in my defeat I recognized my desk was dusty! So I moved it all again, stole the Dust Destroyer off the co-workers desk (it’s ok because she’s at the beach, no dusting needed there) and went wild dusting stuff. I’ll admit it got crazy and I went a little overboard, but in my defense I did not know, nor did I read the cautions on the back of the can before use.

After I inhaled all the dust that has apparently collected since the dinosaurs walked around and I revived myself I figured it was a good time to read those cautions on the can. Except that I couldn’t. Because the can was now magically frozen from use. However that happens.

So I waited for the can to warm and realized I wasn’t (obviously) in immediate danger.

And so it reads:

Caution (in red to help me find it, how thoughtful): KEEP OUT OF REACH OF CHILDREN. My first mistake.

THE INTENTIONAL MISUSE BY DELIBERATELY INHALING CONTENTS MAY BE FATAL. Does this mean I’ll live because it wasn’t intentional?

I think I might survive, narrowly, but I’m still googling to see how advanced the treatment for unintentional misuse has come.

I may also contact a lawyer for a pre-wrongful death suit. Only for my husband’s benefit.

who even likes Scrabble anyways

Since I’ve gotten my new cell phone my husband (as before mentioned) has continued to kick my butt in Scrabble. Which is devastating to me since I’ve taken pride in my excellent English related skills and was always an advanced student in that (one) area. And now he’s taken it away from me. Typical.

Usually when one of us takes our turn we have to send a text message to let the other know that it’s their turn. Until recently the phone started sending a notification. That’s thoughtful, cuts out a lot of work for me.

Then it really outdid it self. I was feeling particularly pleased because during our most recent game I was ahead the whole time. Until the end when he made some lame word and got 6 million points. During my fit throwing defeat where I was accusing him of taking my one great quality away the phone decided to alert me. To let me know that I had lost. Thank you. I wasn’t aware.

He also spoke the worst words ever during the defeat: “I will let you win next time”. Excuse me husband? Have we met? I cannot accept a pity win. Now I don’t even think we can play anymore because in the off chance I ever win I won’t even know if I can legitimately walk around for a week rubbing it in.

So now I’m not too sure about my new cool phone. It’s created self esteem issues for me. The husband is already a professional ironer now Scrabble? I might need to look into therapy to deal with this. I wonder if there is an app for that…

can we get a handicap placard for the dog?

Do dogs gradually go blind? Or do they just wake up one day and they’re like “Shit I can’t see anything?”

I’m pretty sure either her eyes are starting to suck or she’s just becoming old, cantankerous and retreating back to childhood adolescence, all of which I’m not impressed with.

But my dog, Daze (like the flower, she came pre-named), my beloved “mutt” or chupacabra as my husband so “lovingly” refers to her, is 9. I think. She’ll be 9 this December or maybe 10, not that I think it matters since a dog’s age advances much more rapidly than ours. I’ll do better with remembering ages when I have actual human babies.

I inherited her when she was 6 months old either 9 or 10 years ago. Ugliest Most beautiful fur baby I’ve ever seen. She came free with bad hair, nastiest breath ever and an over-eagerness to bite everyone. Angel from heaven.

She’s been loyal, wonderful and consistent. I can count on her to bark for 3 hours when someone stops by. I can also count on her to poop in the same place (thanks for not changing it up). But now I think the vision is going. I’m not sure how she’ll know where the pooping spot is.

So usually, since I’m lazy, I stand at the back door and yell loud enough for her to hear me upstairs in her room (our bathroom). Really it’s a challenge to yell that loud because it’s far, especially if the dryer is going. Then here she comes, racing her sister Bella (the over grown Yorkie) down the stairs and out the door to potty while standing on only one leg. For real, how does a dog balance on one leg. Pretty sure she studies gymnastics in her free time.

Now it seems like I have to scream for 3 minutes, then sigh and walk over to the bottom of the stairs and scream some more because I’m certainly not wasting a trip up to get her.

Eventually, she comes. Slowly, as if she doesn’t care that I have things to do. She takes her time, enjoying each step on her way down the stairs, strolls across the living room through the kitchen then stops to investigate the opening that is the back door as if she’s never seen it before.

I try to encourage her by (gently) attempting to close the door (and push her out…I’m going to be a great parent) and she still stands there hanging onto the ledge. So then I feel bad and open the door and wait.

I’m getting the vibe she doesn’t have that zest to race her sister anymore. So I’ve concluded she might be losing her sight or they’ve come to a secret agreement about always letting Bella win.

I suggested to my husband we take her to the vet, after I probably made it worse when I shined a flashlight in her eyes thinking that I was a vet, and going to see something. He said we weren’t treating her if she is blind because it’s expensive (um what if it was our child?). Duh husband there isn’t a pill for this stuff. Is there? Because if so, scratch what I agreed too. She’s getting it.

I said “I know we’ll just help her and carry her up and down the stairs” and by we I meant him. “Dang I just got down here and forgot the blind dog, could you go get her?”

Can we get a Seeing Eye service dog for our dog?