Current mood:

cranky

Fun times.
Hey, you know what's fun? Getting a sliver of glass in your foot and not being able to get it out because 1) it's really, really tiny and 2) you are not a contortionist able to bend yourself into a pretzel, even if you dutifully soak your foot for 30 minutes to loosen it up and when that doesn't work you swear at it for another 30 minutes while poking and prodding the spot until it hurts even more and you're worried you'll get an infection and they'll have to amputate your foot. Fun!

You know what's even more fun? Getting the sliver of glass in your foot at your parents' house, which you are at because even though your 2 siblings also promised your father that if he got your mother a dog for Chanukah they would help dogsit when Mom and Dad went out of town, you are the only one who has kept that promise even though you are also the only one who has her own pets at home to take care of. And while you are nursing your sore foot and thinking what life will be like without it once they have to amputate it, your parents' psycho dog decides she has to go outside, so you go to put her on the lead in the backyard but she yanks herself away from you and off she goes into the night, leaving you to swear some more and hurry to pull on some pants and grab some dog treats before you limp out into the darkness calling her name. Which she hears but quite gleefully refuses to respond to, choosing instead to cavort and gallop merrily through all the neighbors yards, while you stumble after her, setting off all the motion detector lights and calling her name in various tones of voice with the increasingly futile hope that one will work. Fun!

Also fun? Yelling the dog's name at 11:30 at night in a quiet neighborhood. Not too bad if your dog's name is, "Spot" or "Buster" or "Duke" but when your dog's name is Dreidl you just sound like a fucking idiot, which is good because you also look like a fucking idiot seeing as how it was 11:00 at night and you were in a nightshirt when the psycho dog escaped and were too worried about her dumb ass getting hit by a car to worry about accessorizing properly and so you grabbed the first thing on hand to put on which were your dress pants for work and some ratty old Target slip on shoes, which only increase your whole foot amputation fear since there's no time to put on socks and the inside of those 3 year old shoes is not exactly sterile. Fun!

And since the only thing more fun than all of that would be to have to call your parents on vacation and tell them you got your mom's Chanukah present killed, you continue to chase the damn psycho dog through bushes and over fences and down slippery, muddy hills and then up slippery, muddy hills which results in you landing on your ass more than once, all the while calling her name, "Dreidl!" And the psycho dog finds this hilariously awesome as she leaps around you like a gazelle, but never quite within your reach as you try to tackle her several times and miss, much to the psycho dog's joy. So you change tactics and pretend you don't care and just sit there and watch her dash around hoping she'll come close enough to grab but the dog is dumb but not that dumb and she doesn't get close enough. So you decide to ignore her and walk away, hoping she'll follow but she doesn't give a crap and just keeps sprinting around madly in every direction but the one you're going in. Fun!

So finally, wet, muddy, limping and frustrated beyond all endurance by all the fun, you just go home, praying the retarded, psycho dog will eventually come back, which is, in the end, what happens. And you lock the psycho dog in her crate, more for her protection from you than for her punishment and you hope the night does not get any more fun.