So three things happened between now and the last time we sat down together and had share-time. First I started this. If you’re in property management or if you’ve ever been a landlord or if you’ve got a family member living in your spare bedroom, you’ll appreciate this. The laity who have not been initiated into the cult of property management will probably just scratch their heads or dig in their noses or whatever it is that people do when they don’t have to stare into the white  LCD abyss of REALPAGE for hours on end because those prospects aren’t going to enter themselves into the system, dammit!

Then my dog was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. No biggy. She just has to take prescription wee-wee medicine now. Oh, and she has to wear a diaper whenever I’m not around to walk her every 15 minutes. So here’s how that conversation went:

Me: So listen, I’ve noticed that since we put you on this doggy congestive heart failure medication that you’ve had some trouble not waking up in a puddle of your own urine on my bed while I’m at work.

Dog: Yeah, sorry about that.

Me: I’ve also noticed that you’ve been making similar puddles on the couch and the love seat.

Dog: Hey listen, I’m trying to get a handle on it okay? Do you want me to live or not?

Me: Oh, I definitely want you to keep on ticking. I just think we need to make some changes to accommodate your leaky bladder.

Dog: You’re not going to lock me in the kitchen with a baby gate, are you? Because for real, that shit will not fly.

Me: Nah, I think I have a better solution. *Pulls out powdery smelling package of canine pampers*

Dog: AW HELL TO THE NO!

*A brief struggle ensues, after which I emerge covered in fresh urine and the dog is wearing a diaper and glaring at me with the fury of a thousand white hot suns*

“I HOPE YOU DIE IN A FIRE, MOM.”

That was super fun. Next, both mules developed abscesses at the same time. If you really want to know what happens when a critter with hooves develops an abscess (none of you do, and that’s totally cool with me) you can go here and let a vet explain it. They’re all better now and no longer gimping so severely that my neighbor kindly offered to shoot them for me, and that’s just wonderful. Red looks absolutely delighted that he isn’t hobbling around like he’s got one foot through the glue factory door, but it helps that I put pink anti-fly gunk around his eyes. It makes him look extra-happy.

“This is my happy face.”

So now everything is back to normal and we can continue having a really intense blogger-to-reader relationship where you may or may not just skip the posts all together and fap to my bikini photos. It’s okay. I understand.

Good talk you guys.

PluckyChicken


Posted by in Notes from Lezbo Land, You're all a bunch of fuckheads