First World Problems
In the wake of our teleconference with the doctor last weekend, it has been an eventful couple of days.
Let me preface this little anecdote by stating that I NEVER expected, no matter how long I live, to feel the way I did (and still do) about a little incident we had on Saturday. You’ll understand soon.
Saturday was a pretty nice day, all things considered. Nice conference with Dr. Ross (read The Kidney Correlation for more details), and nice weather to go for a couple of brisk walks as well. It was one of those walks that led to a new and wonderfully weird memory for me.
After we went for our first walk, immediately following the teleconference with the doctor, we split into our individual routines for a bit. After helping Jacquelynn out of her jacket, she headed to the restroom and I retired upstairs to meditate and do a bit of writing. About half an hour or so later, Jacquelynn called for me, and I came running, as I always do. Toeing a new dark spot on the carpet, she said “I think this is coffee,” and asked my opinion. Now, some of you know that I’m colorblind, so not really knowing, but feeling an instant need to defend myself, I replied, “Doesn’t really look like it, but let me check.”
I’m the only one of us who drinks coffee, and I honestly didn’t remember even having an opportunity to spill where she was indicating as of yet that day.
So, I knelt down and touched the offending area. Not really wet, but a little cold, I still wasn’t sure, so I got down really close to smell it.
“Yep. Poop.” I looked immediately over to her shoes, and sure enough, there was poop on her right shoe, oozing from between the treads.
Being mostly interested in getting it all off the floor and preventing further spread, I helped her out of her shoes immediately. She was still a little incredulous, so I offered her the sole of her shoe and a quick sniff proved me right. Then it hit me; she’d already been upstairs to the master bath. Which meant there was likely poop on the stairs, in the hallway, master bedroom and bath, and probably the laundry room and kitchen as well, as those were the first areas we entered when we returned from the walk. Awesome. Not.
So, with a kind but firm rejoinder about where NOT to step, I set about with my trusty GP66 cleanser and microfiber towel. First addressing the obvious spots, then carefully retracing her steps. Oddly, I only found one more mark, but it was in my nose but good and for hours to come, I was smelling only poop, everywhere I went, so was convinced that I’d missed some. It wasn’t until after our next walk that I realized that it had been (mostly, anyway) in my head. Once I got out of the house for a while, it smelled nice and clean when I returned.
After I was finished cleaning, Jacquelynn came to me with another sheepish apology and was shocked to see me smiling happily. When she asked why all I could say was that it was so incredibly normal to have to clean up tracked-in dog poop that it had made me very happy. She offered me a confused smile, so I explained further; for so long it seems that every issue we have faced has such dire consequences. Honestly life-and-death stuff, day in and day out. Doing something as unpleasantly pedestrian as cleaning dog shit out of a shoe and a few spots of carpet was the most normal I’d felt in ages. I seriously rejoiced in it.
Weird? Hell yeah. Our lives have been eaten to death by weird. But NORMAL weird? I’ll take a shitload (pun very much intended, of course) of that any day.
Gratefully and with true joy.
The lead image is of a fake poop novelty toy. Please do not take offense.