Hella Stella

I'd like to start off by saying that my Christmas Experience has since gotten better, and I have been gifted and fed and snuggled to my heart's content.

But yesterday? Yesterday was bad news.

I shall list out my adventures so as not to write a novel.

1. I stepped out of the shower, wandered naked into the hall, and noticed that Morty was having a poo explosion by the door. I screeched and threw on my BH's clothes (they were closer), and ran Morty outside where he had more exploding poo. I put him in the bath and washed him off. Poor tyke.

2. I went into work and left early! This was good.

3. Decided to take our borrowed car to run some errands before I went to pick up my BH from work. I put Morty in the car, left the passenger door unlocked, turned on the car to warm up, and went about clearing the snow off the windshield. I hummed myself a little tune. “It’s Christmas Eve!” I thought to myself, cheerfully. “Happy times!”

Meanwhile, Morty, who was excited to be in the car, rested his head on the window, accidentally locking the car door with his giant chin. I am left outside with no spare key.

So to recap: Morty is locked in a borrowed car, the car is running, and I’m hyperventilating on the outside.

I called the in-laws to see if they have a spare. They do, and they start the trek to my house from Carp. I spend half an hour freezing my ass off while the car runs and Morty chews up the seat belt.

Several people wander by me and I have to explain my situation. They try not to laugh too hard. I am annoyed. Morty is now howling. I find myself praying that he does not have exploding poo in the car.

My in-laws arrive and we unlock the car! This is good.

4. The in-laws leave. “Thank goodness THAT disaster is over!” I think to myself. I hop in the car, accelerate, and notice I am stuck. I do all the clever things one does to become un-stuck, to no avail. Nobody is around to help push me out. I will never leave this blasted parking lot. I feel sorry for myself. I am now very cold and very hungry and Morty has eaten the seat belt. It’s Christmas fucking eve.

Jo walks around the corner! I squeal with delight! She pushes me out with her very strong arms.

5. I pick up my BH and my day slowly gets better. My nerves remain shot, however, and it takes me all evening to calm down again.

(EDIT: Because I was too stressed out to think about it at the time, I left out the part of the day where Morty pulled free on his morning walk and ran into the open door of the only crackhouse on my street. But that did happen. On this very same shitty Christmas eve. Luckily he ran back out right when the tenant was insisting that I come inside to get the puppy myself.)

But as I said, things are good now. Christmas was just lovely and there was some good gifting happening at my parent's house. I am the new proud owner of a lime green French oven! I also got some honeycomb, a David Sedaris book, a t-shirt with Big Bunny on it, and a fabulous red kettle.

My BH is with his folks, so I am snuggling Morty and trying to motivate myself to clean the apartment. It is a royal disaster and it needs some TLC. Perhaps using my fancy new French oven will motivate me to clean? Unlikely.

Regardless, I want to wish you all a very Merry Christmas and I hope none of you lock your puppies in the car this holiday season. It sucks!

xo
Stella