A Conversation via Text Message

Doc: Looks like Volvo driver decided to go thru insurance. May need some statement/claim help.

Me: We'll happily give it, once we figure out how to make the steam cleaner work. Winston is unsettled at the moment, and now I am, too, b/c I can't clean up the evidence of his unsettled lower digestive tract. Hoping A.B. didn't want to do Insanity workout tonight. It will not be pleasant.

Doc: Oh no! Is it a bissel? I have a little experience with them. Sorry about the digestive unsettling - hope things dry up quickly. We have a gallon of natures miracle if you need any. ;-)

Me: YES! Oh, that would be wonderful. As it stands, I'm pouring solution directly on the floor and sucking it up with the hand tool attachment. Funny, but not effective.

(Forty minutes later)

Me: Accountant Boy is on the case. it's only a matter of time, now. I'm enjoying a frosty Boddingtons while I watch.

(Twenty minutes later)

Me: We were trying to figure out where the last of the smell was coming from, and then...


Me: ..yes, right on - and in - A.B.'s running shoes. You can't tell me that's not some kind of message.

Doc: Yikes - sorry I failed with the callback. Glad u got backup! I'm at cooking group @ work, will be joining The Chemist for a hoppy beverage around 9pm when he's back from company dinner. Hope Winston's belly is feeling better soon.

Me: Might we join you for a refreshing beverage, or is it a couples thing?

Me: "In my SHOE!"

Doc: I think I laughed, and then threw up in my mouth. Or maybe it was the other way around. Oh god. What a catastrophe. Betcha ten bucks Buddy wouldve given him two paws up.

Doc: Of course - time-to-be-firmed-up. Can call when on the way if u like?

Me: We'll already be there, because...Jesus. How do you get the picture out of your head? The horror...the horror.

* * *

Still knitting, still trying to make time to catch up on blogging, etc. And I was going to do just that tonight, but when I walked into the house and smelled that specific, evocative odor, I knew it wasn't going to happen exactly as planned. Winston eats a high quality food, which makes his feces especially fragrant. From a distance, it's not unlike walking into a kitchen where a beef stew has been simmering for several hours. Up close, it's not so pleasant. The point is, you know what's up with him the minute you open the front door, and exactly how much work is going to have to go into making it right. So, while I'd love to talk about the things I've made and the things I'm doing, that will have to wait for another day.

I'm going out for a beer.