1. The dog pooped by the front door last night.
“You gotta come see this,” my husband hollered across the house. I was sitting at the dining room table finishing my wine and pasta. A few of the boys were finishing homework.
“No thanks?” I said between bites. Seriously. No thanks.
“Um, there’s worms in there.”
Chairs screeched across the floor as boys catapulted themselves away from the table to go get a look.
I opted not to follow.
2. A while later, after all the excitement had died down, I went to the computer to google “worms in dog poop” which comes up surprisingly fast. I only had to type “worms in…” and thankfully my choice was the dog option and not some of the other hideous afflictions.
“It sounds like,” I started to call to Paul, and before I could finish my sentence he was standing next to me, placing a ziploc baggie on the desk.
“This is what they look like,” he said.
“How in the heck did you get those things in there?” I was equal parts disgusted and impressed. Had he really done the unthinkable task of picking them out of the poop?
“They just started crawling away, so I captured them.”
3. So obviously, we’re off to the vet at some point.
4. Unfortunately, we have a previous commitment of waiting here at the house between the hours of 8 am and noon when the appliance repairman is coming to fix my washer.
5. Yes, it started punking out the other night when I set it to turbo-mega-hot wash cycle (my standard choice). Thankfully I discovered that the machine worked fine on Mere Mortal Status, so I’ve been able to keep the wash moving through, just not using the high high heat option I prefer.
6. So the dog has to wait. The men are on their way and as soon as they leave, we’ll head out with the dog. I sure hope I get my ducks in a row before anything else crazy comes up.
7. But in the end:
Can I get an Amen?
Go see Jen for more, less icky quick takes.











