Gotta Luv 'Em ...

So yesterday a certain someone (me) neglected to gate the girls (Boogie & Kaia) in the kitchen before said certain someone (again, me) left for work.

Yeah … not too very bright of someone (still me … yeah, this affectation is wearing thin). Since I’m on vacation starting tomorrow (WOO to the HOO, people! To the HOO!), I have a shit-ton of work to get done at the plant, and have been working late into the day all week because (method to my madness) I want to get it all done so I can leave early tomorrow to finish up some last minute personal errands before my flight out at so-early-its-yesterday o’clock Saturday morning.

Anywho, I get home at oh-late-hundred and the girls greet me at the garage door. In their we-misbehaved-and-know-it-but-are-far-too-cute-for-you-to-care eveningwear (works eh-hev-vary time), leaping to be let out into the dog run from the downstairs door. So I let them out. Then walked upstairs.

Only to discover there was not a single room they hadn’t par-tayed in during the course of the day. My kitchen floor was strewn with dishes from the sink, as well as the (now) empty box of frosted shredded mini wheats … and both potholders that usually hang from the oven front (this because you may recall FroggyBop has disappeared and Boogie is still in the process of finding and breaking in a replacement binky).

My living room floor has all the mail – that was in the IN basket – all over the place, shredded (the girls may have had help from Briggs & Stratton on that one). Some of this confetti has made it down the hall to the bedrooms. Which have more of the same, as well as half a bottle of berry flavored Pepcid, and a bunch of pink stains on the rug from the Pepcids they ate and drooled all over the place.

The poor bathroom also didn't escape unscathed, seeing as the cabinet door was opened and the trash can was pulled out and emptied … all because those magnificent retriever schnozzes detected (what I thought was an) empty vanilla softlips lip balm … which is now in a million pieces on the floor.

I’m telling you, it’s the canine version of every teen movie ever made where the parents are away and the high schoolers trash the place while the grups’re gone … but apparently the girls haven’t seen the ending of any of those flicks because I sure as HECK know they trashed the place.

And since I know, they see no reason to lift a finger to clean up after themselves. So now, in addition to the errands I already planned for tomorrow, I have to drag a Hefty trash bag through the joint and use a push broom to clear the trash.

Those dogs are clearly lucky that I adore them, or I’d not take the fact that I rank #3 in authoritae in my own home sitting down. Where’s the dog whisperer, and does he make house calls?

Because clearly I need to be schooled.