I Hate My Life

Yesterday, I was within one load of having the laundry caught up.  We aren’t going to count the uncollected laundry still on the floor in certain family members’ bedrooms.

It was a happy moment.

Then Matilda, the basset hound, started calling from the back door to be let in.

I went and let her in.

This is the part of the story where I mention that I’m allergic to mold and we’ve had twenty-something straight days of rain and I’m congested and can’t smell anything.

So, Matilda comes plodding in and wanders off.  I go back to whatever I was doing.

Next thing, I hear my oldest daughter retching and screaming Matilda’s name (and maybe some profanity).  And then retching some more.

I go running to her room and Matilda is skulking out.

It turns out that the dog has gotten under the ramp that leads from our deck to the back yard.  She has evidently rolled in something really gross.  Stagnant water, mud and opossum den gross.  She smells like something from the middle of a garbage dump gross.

This is all second-hand.  Remember, I can’t smell anything.

Into the tub Matilda goes.  She doesn’t care for baths.  Bassets are hard to bath.  They have dense, oily fur with a fine hair undercoat.  Thirty minutes later, my daughter pronounces her odor-free.

All of my daughter’s bedding now needs to be washed.

I hear myself say, “I hate my life”.

I’ve been working on not saying that.  I don’t really hate my life.  I don’t care for parts of it.  Some parts are better than others.  I mentally re-word what I just said.

“I am not happy that I have two more loads of laundry to do.”

“I am not pleased with your behavior, Matilda”.  (She’s asleep on the deck in the sun and doesn’t really care.)

“I am not happy that I have to go change clothes and have even more laundry now.”

The voices in my head are a work in progress.

Oh, and when I went to get in bed last night, I find that the dog has managed to roll her grossness on four pillows, the sheets AND the comforter on my bed before going to my daughters room.

Laundry load four and five.

Sometimes, I hate my life.

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3 thoughts on “I Hate My Life

  1. Ah, Kelly. I can relate to the feeling. The never-ending hamster wheel of laundry and cleaning and duties that get in the way of what I really want to be doing, which is create. I love how you turned the words into something that, while still real, was less negative. Good thinking. Blessings to you!

  2. I carried our crippled, deaf, incontinent corgi out to the sunshine to pee today. King walked back to the porch and peed in front of the door. While he was outside peeing on the porch I sat down to do some computer work (YUCK!) and I had a retching experience and it was ME that smelled,I can only guess from carrying King. I found doggie shampoo and filled the tub and bathed King, also a reluctant bather. The tub water looked like oolong tea. Every five minutes (it takes a long time to bathe a corgi as they, too, have two layers of fur) he would shake and each time I was soaked. Yep to two more loads of laundry. Five and a half hours later his elk butt was STILL wet so we pulled out the hairdryer and spent fifteen minutes drying him out. He is still wet, but no longer soggy. I am thankful that he is deaf. He used to freak at the vacuum, no way a hearing King could have handled the hairdryer.

    Interesting how parallel our paths were today.

    Sweet dreams. I love you.

    1. Parallel paths indeed. Especially considering our deaf, incontinent, and blind dog, Daisy, just passed away recently. Matilda dried herself off by rolling in the chick bedding (used) that “someone” had left in a box on the deck. I’d say job security, but who wants our jobs. smile! We are pretty wonderful aren’t we. Caregivers rock! Love you too. Hope you rest well.

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