As the title implies, my life is glamorous. As in previous rants, most people know that I work a lot this time of year. It's after 8 and I am still at work here and got here around 7-something this morning. It's not recommended, it makes you fat and unhappy and my back hurts. But I got up at 5:15 this morning and did my 4 miler, happily.
So my story, first, my preface - I have never promised anyone that my blog would be anything serious or dedicated to one topic, like running. It's not really going to detail my training program because it's nothing that someone wants to duplicate. It would go something like this - no run, drink beer, no run, eat brownies, 4 milers, 18 miler, real sore. The reality of my blog is I don't have Word at home so the Internet saves my stories for me.
Anyways, I had to run home last week to let the dog out for some runaround fun. Sophie has a new fun habit (fun for her only) in that she likes to climb the fence now that the snow line has moved her within a couple of feet of getting over it. She goes into the neighbors yard and eats deer poo over there (not the poo I am talking about). She gets in big trouble for doing this and I am sure the neighbors are thrilled with my screaming at her and her dramatic interpretation of the coat hanger scene in Mommy Dearest. She starts to howl before I get to her, all, my mom beats me.
So after I get her back over the fence, I decide that seeing the snow is starting to melt, that I should herd some turds. I am all about multi-tasking when i need to. And really it was a total landmine out there and for weeks, I would be happy with it snowed and covered the last layer of Sophie's outings. But now, we were at ground level for part of the yard and it was undeniable. So, out there in my professional garb, I scooped and shoveled, part snow, part poo. The bag filled and I started flicking them towards the compost pile, not making most of them over to it.
So with a full bag, I start to head in. I should explain my stair system during the winter. With the melting and dripping of late winter, coupled with my not being an obsessive shoveler (like my neighbor) my perfectly good 4 stairs from the outside to the house turns into a luge halfpipe, gleaming with water. Sophie literally steps out and slides down, but seeing she is 1/4 Scoobie, it's in her blood to do that.
I was headed up the stairs, in my work shoes (think banana peels), holding the bag of poo. First step, good, second still solid, third, it all goes to hell, I start going backwards, there's some windmilling of the arms and I reach out to put my hand on the ground but the bag. My hand goes solidly on the ground but only by way of poo (grocery bag, not ziploc size).
I still have to throw the bag away, what to do - wash my hands or throw the bag away. I am down on the ground thinking about this and clearly, to Sophie, this looks like an invitation to play. She gets the bag away from me and starts pulling around the yard. Mommy Dearest visits again and I get the bag away from her and throw it away before washing up.
I head back to work and have a couple of meetings carefully eyeing my clients to see if they are sniffing and then wrinkling up their nose but trying to be polite in doing it. I didn't see it, but then again, I would just blamed the dog.