Emma imagines a new direction her life could take, which reminded me of my own day:
I went home during lunch today to walk the NEW dog I acquired last week, an 85-pound behemoth. It was pouring rain, so I stood outside under an umbrella for 10 minutes while he christened every bush in sight and attempted to wrench my arm out of the socket. I think he succeeded.
Then I went inside, tried to tidy up from breakfast and our hasty - bellowing - departure this morning, traipsing all about the house for the next 20 minutes or so. As I drove back to work, the car heater emphasized the odor I'd caught tantalizing wind of earlier, and I realized I'd stepped in caca du chien. Stepped in it, then apparently made sure every room in my house shared in the bounty.
I tried to wipe my boot with tissues, which didn't help the smell at all, and only made my hands feel dirty. I was still hungry (no food at home, unless you count fifty 2-day old tacos -- I don't), so I stopped at the grocery store, making sure to park near a cart return/corral which had a garbage bin so I could toss the tissues. Stepping out into the rain, I lifted my hood over my head, and blindly walked smack into the metal sign which told me to RETURN CARTS HERE. I almost cried from the pain.
I did finally get to clean my shoes in the ladies' room, and I rewarded myself with a new packet of tea and some Swedish cookies with "healthy oat bran flakes," and nutritional Belgian chocolate. As further reward, Hazel and I stumbled onto the new Nordstrom's Rack this afternoon, where I bought myself some early Christmas presents (it's never too early, right?) and her a holiday dress. Now we're at the coffee shop partaking of yet more chocolate. I am an excellent role model.