Not the day I had planned

I wound up with an unexpected 4:00 a.m. alarm clock this morning. Frankie decided to wake up and barf.

I ran them both outside, then prepared their breakfast. I scrubbed the carpet while they ate. Seems so silly of me now. What I need to do is burn the house down and rebuild from the ashes.

This is because we managed to hit eleven barfs in total. Including all that dog food that went down around 4:15.

We have a lot of hard surfaced flooring, but they always target either a rug or the carpet. I spent a lot of time on my knees scrubbing away, and many paper towels were sacrificed. My back keeps reminding me of my morning efforts.

Somewhere +/- barf #4 a big piece of Nylabone came up. These are the rubber ones they seem to love more than life itself. I figured that would be the end of it, but I was wrong. Frankie’s brother never swallows the pieces, just her.

Along about noon she started feeling better. She acted like she was on her death bed for hours, then started playing with one of her safer toys. (I put the rubber ones away)

This means no new fiction for me, and it might be for the whole weekend the way Sundays usually go.

When it looked like the coast (carpet) was clear, I dove into Seas of Time by D. Wallace Peach. It wound up being different than I expected, but I really enjoyed it. It’s a mash up of something with a message and voodoo with a fun gargoyle character involved. You might like it, too.

Tomorrow might give me an hour or so to check on Lizzie and the hat, but Sundays are never the sweet spot for me.

Hope you had a better Saturday, and a less septic one.