Decisions, Decisions

I’ve made a few decisions this week that I’m pretty excited about. I’ve made one that I’m not excited about at all. See if you can tell which ones are which.

First of all, I’ve decided on bridesmaid gifts. I obviously can’t put them here as I know that at least one of my bridesmaids is a regular blog stalker, but just know that they are fabulous and I’m really excited about them. They are a good mix of fun and functional, which I think is important.

Second, I decided what I’m going to get Paul for his birthday. Again, I can’t tell you what that is on the off-chance that he reads this, which, given his Tupelo-induced-boredom, he may very well resort to. But I’m really excited about it and hopefully he will be too. I’m conflicted because said-item is really him, in a way, and not him at all, in another. If it’s more not him than him then I will return said-item for something a little more him. Have I confused you yet? Good!
Last night I decided that I hate making, “Things I’m going to buy when I get paid” lists when that list includes things like paper towels , dog food, and Ziploc baggies. I know I have the money in savings right now, but I don’t want to tap into that so I pined for more baggies and used lots of aluminum foil and Tupperware until today—sweet, glorious, much-longed-for pay day!

Earlier this week I decided that I’m never giving Ginny a bath every again. I had planned to go to the gym on money but there was a little nagging voice in my head telling me to go on home and just walk the dog. So go home I did. And what did I find there? I found a crate, carpet and a dog that were all covered in dog poo. For the first time since we’ve had her, Miss Ginny decided to soil herself and her cage at some point during my work day and it was everywhere in the cage vicinity. After putting the crate liner in the bathtub and hosing it down and sanitizing/odor eliminating/vacuuming the offended area, I hooked Ginny to her leash and took her for a long walk around the neighborhood with the intention of wearing her out so that bathing her might be incident free. Well you know how they say the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry? Tis true my friends, tis true.

I should preface this by saying that I didn’t grow up with a dog and I have never bathed an animal. I placed Ginny in the tub and turned on the water. I made sure the water was not too hot and not too cold, but it didn’t matter because apparently Ginny hates water You know what’s difficult? Washing a dog when you don’t have a detachable shower head. So I finagled the water to fall at just the right place in the tube to where I could hold Ginny and the water would prince her off, but she was not happy. She kept try to hide in the back of the tube so I would scoot her forward and she would tremble and look at me and the showerhead in fear. Eventually she was clean and shook herself clean in every room in the house, but I’m pretty sure she still hasn’t forgiven me. But that’s okay, because I haven’t really forgiven Miss Poopy Pants either.