Here I sit, the night before I leave town for a week and I’m nearly packed and have all my shit straight. This is alarming for me, because I am always last minute. I should be up until midnight packing, then sleeping until the alarm goes off at 5 am tomorrow. Instead I will be in bed sleeping well before then. Bags will be packed and my kitchen will even be clean. I am half German and cannot leave a messy house or full laundry hampers. The last load was folded an hour ago.
I left work early and delivered one suitcase to my sister to drive down. I was home by 1:30 and logged in to work from here, just so no one can claim I went MIA before I was supposed to. I picked the girls up and started making chicken soup, thinking EN could have some leftovers while we are gone. The girls were outside playing with their friends. I changed into super-comfortable grungy clothes knowing that I wouldn’t be leaving the house again tonight. I threw on old white workout pants, not caring that my panties were black. Again, I thought I wouldn’t be leaving the house again tonight. Comfy white socks and a gnarly old sweatshirt completed my ensemble. Smoking hot doesn’t even begin to describe how fabulous I looked.
Suddenly Spice is home, flinging the door open. With that, Bella and Indy take off out the door and down the driveway. The only shoes I had nearby were my nasty old thick heeled flip flops that are trashed from the dogs chewing on them. I pull Spice into the house and she steps on the puppy, who yelps in pain and does a three-legged limp as fast as she can get away. Dear God, the child has broken the puppy and set the other two free. What the fuck!
I lumber down the driveway as fast as I can in my nasty old shoes and see the dogs visiting with the neighbors across the street. Lovely. With Sugar’s assistance, we round them up and drag their stupid asses home. Halfway up the driveway, I remember the black panties under the white pants and realize my fat ass is a beacon in my neighbors’ faces. Again, I feel I need to mention my smoking hotness.
I get back into the house and find the puppy to be ok and shipped Spice off to put pajamas on and sit in her room to think about how many times I’ve told her not to let the dogs out. Thank God for Cindy Boo texting me to stay calm! When I called her for dinner, Sugar had to wake her up. The excitement of a trip is too much for the little devil to handle, it seems.
While I was gathering the dogs, I’m reminded of something that happened about five years ago. Spice was a baby and Sugar was nearly five. Indy was a puppy and broke free from his leash. I spent an hour chasing him around the neighborhood. Every time I bent over to grab the little shit, my breast feeding boobs leaked and he took off again, delighted with our game. I came home periodically to check on sleeping Spice and upset Sugar. I finally caught the dog after he had cornered a porcupine and ended up with a bunch of quills in his front leg. I dragged him home and came in the house to find Sugar on the phone. One of my friends had called while I was chasing the dog down and was kind enough to keep Sugar talking on the phone. I spoke with her and she asked if I was alright, told me to take a few breaths and hung up. Obviously a great friend as she didn’t lecture me about the children being left home while I pranced through the ‘hood. Suffice it to say, I was mad enough at that dog to pull the quills out of his paw with my bare hands.
So my night of getting shit done was not without drama. I’m still anxious about this trip, racing through airports alone with two little chicks and spending a week with my sister and her kids. It’s been over 20 years since we spent that kind of time together. Will we all come out alive?