Alarm goes off. Shit. I’m tired as fuck. I don’t want to move. So I don’t. Dee says, “Remember, you have to take the dog out this morning.”
“Fuck. Fuck this fucking dog.”
I get up. “Ruthie, let’s go outside.” She runs towards me and then suddenly turns and “hides” on the couch. Because she’s the dumbest dog alive she thinks she can hide by simply putting her head under a pillow. It does not work. I walk over, pick her up and wrestle her into her harness. Yes, she wears a harness because she’s a dachshund and she can’t wear a regular collar without breaking her back or something. We get outside and she decides that she needs to find the perfect spot instead of just dumping out all her goo wherever she wants even though she’s been holding it all night. Apparently she has a will of steel and amazing bladder control when I’m least patient. Of course. Eventually she does her shit. THAT’S RIGHT. PUN MOTHERFUCKING INTENDED. For some reason she doesn’t want to go back inside so I drag her back inside to give her her medicine. Because she has allergies. My dog, who is descended from wolves, has allergies.
Time for a shower. Time to wash the stank of this day off and get a fresh start. I turn on the shower and wait. It’s cold. I wait some more. Still cold. I wait some more. Still freaking cold. BECAUSE WHO NEEDS TESTICLES ON THE OUTSIDE OF HIS BODY? Time for a cold shower. You know how it goes. The short gasps as the water hits you. The twenty seconds of pain while you hold yourself under the water thinking that you’ll adjust or that the water will finally get hot. The hopping in and out of the stream as you soap up and rinse off. The profanity. The cursing of your swampy crotch that needs a thorough rinsing. The moments of intense shivering between shutting the water off and grabbing the towel. Briefly hating yourself because you didn’t think to put the towel in the dryer before getting into a freezing shower. Drying off and resigning yourself to a wearing permanent scowl and generally hating everything you encounter for the rest of the day. Embracing the hate.
Then your daughter wakes up, smiles and laughs at you and says, “Da Da,” and everything is awesome again.