25 September 2012

The view out my front door

I've been sick for days now. Pray-for-death, drinking green-death-flavored syrup sick. I'm slightly better today. Better enough that I poked my head out the front door to try and figure out what the hell my dog has been barking at since 6:30 this morning.

All I saw was dirt. And a few dried up dog turds.

I stood there trying to figure out what these dried up dog turds said about my life, until it made my head hurt bad enough to want more green, death-flavored syrup (or some vicodin-chip cookies). Once my head started hurting, I realized that this is what the dog turds said about my life:

A) nothing, really

B) Mollie shits a lot for a little dog

2) that we need to find some grass that will grow in our yard

XXIV) I need to rake the yard and bag the poo for removal to the dumpster

28) Our yard is really small


(Sorry, couldn't help myself there)

Maybe I wouldn't be obsessing over dog turds if they hadn't been the first thing that I saw when I came back from the dead. Maybe I wouldn't be worried about the dog turds if the world around me would act like it was fall and drop some leaves off the trees instead of being 92 fucking degrees outside.

I must be going crazy. I need to get a job so I have something to do with myself other than worry about three dried up dog turds in my yard.

Or maybe I just need to go rake and bag the damned poo.

That'll teach me to open the front door during daylight hours.


  1. Or maybe you just need to get better so you can stop hallucinating about dog crap - :)

  2. Fall needs to happen.

    Daylight is bad. Stay away from the scary sun!

    1. Yeah, the scary sun shows me all the ugly!

  3. Ugh. Green death syrup. Hope you feel better soon. xx