One of THOSE days

I stepped in pee this morning. Warm pee on carpet. On the soul of my foot. Just sunk right in. Is anything more disgusting? Probably, but it just really got me going. Did T.D. take a leak on the floor. Nope. The damn dog. The dog who walks in front really slowly when I'm carrying heavy loads of laundry or climbing the stairs with a twisting T.D. or bags of stuff. The dog who refuses to eat her food lately making herself puke from starvation (no, there isn't anything wrong with her) which I then get to clean up. That damn dog. I love her most days. Just not today.

As I sit here thinking of deadlines I have, packing that needs to be done, my impending birthday, and loads of other stuff all I want to do is sit on my deck in the sun and read a book. I have tons of them to get through. I don't want to guinea pig myself today (too late) trying some new product. I only want to lounge like a little sun lizard on a rock. I want to actually look out at the water view I have and not think about how great it is that I have it. That's the thing about working for yourself sometimes. You push so hard and never stop working that when you actually need to stop working you find guilt at your doorstep with a large suitcase asking if he can sit for a spell.

I'm thinking that if I hadn't stepped in pee this morning, spilled soda in my car, and fallen up the stairs impaling myself on a step and knocking my chin, all before noon today I would have a better outlook. I wouldn't be thinking so much about the deck. The deck and my millions of fun books to read.