Shrike's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

This morning, I innocently emailed Shrike and asked, "So, how is your day going?"

Here is her response [with color commentary from yours truly]:

Well, I walked the dogs, exercised [on the treadmill in the basement], started cooking spaghetti [this is pretty much the only thing she cooks] and nearly set the house on fire because I turned on the burner that had the potato and tortilla chips on it.

[Every time I notice that we've set something on top of the stove, say a dishtowel, for example, I think "Hmm, I should probably move that, so we don't burn the house down. Nah, it'll be fine. Unless someone turns that burner on, of course."]

Meanwhile, PerfectPup even followed me downstairs when I exercised [this is rare; we assume that her hip dysplasia makes it painful to do the stairs] so I knew she was going to have a hurty poopy.

[PerfectPup has poopy issues, and she always seems to be really clingy with us right before she has a hurty one. We assume that she's not feeling well and wants to be with her mommies.]

Well, while I am dealing with the burnt chips on the burner I can hear her yelping from downstairs.

[That's what happens when she has a hurty poopy. She screams like she's being killed. It's awful.]

I should have picked her up and brought her up. If I had done that, I don't think she would have done it downstairs.

[No, she would've done it on you! But really - upstairs, downstairs, what's the difference. It's not like nobody's ever pooped in our floor before.]

Anyway, the poopy is picked up, and there is a towel for the pee. . . .

[Oh. Well, it's not like nobody's ever done that before, either.]

Don't believe her story?

The burner

The chips
Sorry, no photographic evidence of the hurty poopy.

Later, she told me, ". . . and then I ate some of the chips, so now when I burp, it's like I swallowed a chunk of charcoal."

Yeah, that's kind of how the kitchen smells, too.