My husband and I had been gone all day, Farley was confined to the kitchen, who knows how long the floor grate/register vent cover had been dangling around his neck. But he was cool. Just sitting there watching me stumble in the door, blood dripping down my leg, laughing at his predicament. I'm sure in his own doggy way, he was laughing at mine. However, because I have opposable thumbs, I had to take pictures of his situation before I even went to resolve my own. Now don't get all Peta on me, the floor grate is extremely light weight and he weighs 115lbs. So, he was fine, it was funny. What made it even funnier is how lackadaisical he was about it. He's all, you know, I wear these things all the time. The ladies call me Flavor Farley.He's a dood boooyeeee! Dood doge! Needless to say, I removed the offending vent cover. I eventually mopped up the carnage on my leg and I showed these pics to my huz when he got home. We called him Flavor Farley all night. Peace Out.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
It's all relative..or perspective
Settle in, this is a sordid tale from last night. Picture a quaint, inviting conference room at a bed and breakfasty type place. That is where I was all day yesterday for work. It was an all day meeting followed by a well deserved nice dinner at a a little spot called Noah Grants. While I was eating with my co-workers/partners/team, my husband was on the golf course an hour from home. He went there straight from work. This will be important in a sec. We were out and about being young professionals, right? As dinner comes to an end I ordered dessert for me and one for my huz, to go, because I'm a sweet considerate wife. After all the goodbyes I was juggling my to-go boxes down the sidewalk. In a split second I twisted my ankle and fell to the ground, breaking my fall with my left knee. My left knee has taken some abuse this year, so has my pride. While I was sitting there on the sidewalk assessing my to-go box situation a kindly older man appeared in an instant to check and see if I was okay.
Him: Ma'am? Are you okay? I was sitting in my car...
Me: Hiding my face, trying not to cry, pretending to fiddle with the boxes
Him: I saw your ankle and then down you went! Are you alright?
Me: in a meek tiny voice, Yes I'm fine, I was just trying to save the steak and brownies.
Him: Well you did! glancing at the blood dripping out of the new hole torn in my nice new Gap jeans.
Me: I'll be fine, thanks so much! feigning chipperness.
No no, the story doesn't stop there! I limped the next couple of blocks to my car, rolled my pant leg up over my skinned knee and cleaned my wound with the little first aid kit I had in my car.
When I got home I just wanted to get inside and wash the would and put some antibacterial stuff on it. Instead, I fumbled through the garage door into the kitchen with my boxes and just about fell on the floor with laughter when I saw this...