I think I'm turning into Frank Spencer!
Having recovered from the D&G spectacle debacle I was enjoying a relatively tranquil day yesterday. The sun was shining and I was chuffed that I'd managed to complete all my work tasks by the early afternoon. Well you know that expression pride comes before a fall > I wanna slap the supercilious git who coined that phrase!
First of all I went arse over tip trying to get to my mobile phone and smacked my head on the wardrobe. I'm sure I didn't leave my gym bag there. Maybe the dog is getting her revenge for the breakfast incident.
When I get up in the morning she usually rushes through to the kitchen with me to get her food. Strange that she staggers about the place looking like an arthritic pensioner until there's any mention of food and suddenly she's whizzing about like she's on speed. Anyway I get to the kitchen and there's no sign of her. I call her name but still nothing. I start to worry and walk back through to the lounge only to find her struggling across the room dragging her bed which had somehow attached itself to her back leg. Of course my initial reaction was to fall about laughing and she didn't take kindly to that and started whimpering. I gave her a reassuring kiss and tried to get her free from the bed attachment but the threads have got themselves well and truly tangled around her paw and her whimpers escalate for more dramatic affect.
I need to get scissors to cut her free so leave her while I go back to the kitchen and the crying takes on a 'don't leave me' tone. Back with a selection of blades, I wrestle with the thread for about 5 minutes trying not to hurt her while she shrieks everytime the scissors go anywhere near her paw. At last she's free and immediately forgets about her trauma and rushes through to the kitchen, tail wagging and dancing round her food bowl.
So I'm convinced she set the gym bag trap to get her revenge for the morning ordeal but luckily no more face damage - just a lump on the head to remind me that SHE is the boss.
Watched the footie in the evening and and prepared to watch Big Brother highlights show. Thought I'd pour myself a glass of red wine and recline on my leather Linda Barker. Grabbed the box of Banrock Station and a glass and proceeded to the lounge. Just as I get through the door things went into slow-motion. The bottom falls out of the box and the sack splatters on the carpet gushing red wine everywhere - carpet, sofa, walls, new Next cushions!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The horror unfolding before my eyes freezes me to the spot for what seemed like forever. I manage to grab the sack and stop the deluge and stumble back to the kitchen, dump the remains in a Pyrex casserole dish and run back with paper towels. 2 rolls later and the place is still sodden so I raid the towel cupboard and continue with the frantic mopping. Next thing Mr T walks in and looks at me like I've just slaughtered the first born of every family in Croydon and without saying anything he stomps off to the shed. I'm hyper-ventilating now.
Back armed with one of those Aqua Carpet Cleaner things he takes over with a sarcastic 'I'll do it' look on his face. Huffing and puffing just to make sure I feel worse that I already do. 20 minutes later it's looking much better but we'll have to wait till it dries before we know if we've managed to get the stain out.
After a couple of fags to de-stress we polish off the remains of the wine from the casserole dish and retire to bed.
I'm sure I caught a glimpse of the dog smiling to herself before I closed the bedroom door!
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