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Wrap Your Troubles In Dreams by Frankie Laine
Wrap Your Troubles In Dreams by Frankie Laine
Life -
Two days ago, as I sat in my car talking to my wife on my lunch break, I looked down at the handy dandy temperature gauge thingy and was a bit shocked. I knew it was nice out, but that thing claimed it was almost 70 degrees out. SEVENTY! This is almost twice the temperature from the day before. Welcome to spring baby!
The next morning, I slumped out of bed (I've got some sort of nasty crud sickness going on) and put on a pair of shorts. If it was gonna be this nice, I was going to celebrate! As I walked past the window, I noticed a quite lovely 3 inches of snow on everything that had fallen during the night. CURSES!
Now, it's a day later and while it's still quite chilly out, around forty, most of that snow has finally melted too, and our three feet of permafrost ice in the backyard has started to recede into the rear hills. Unfortunately, they're slowly revealing, archaeology dig style, layers of long forgotten dog poo. Lets do the math.... Between the two dogs, they eat nearly twelve cups of dog food a day. That's to say nothing of the assorted chewies, peanut butter treats, surreptitiously stolen foodstuffs and hunks of devoured teddy bears. For the last three and a half months, the snow's been too deep for the boys to go anywhere but a roughly eight foot square of hard packed yard just beyond the porch door.
Which hasn't been a big deal, it's snowed regularly enough to keep things looking fresh and covered and out of the realm of Pooka's favorite treat, the horrible Poopsicle. But now, now the ice has receded and laid before us is three months of two dogs pooping roughly four cups of poop for every one cup they ate, apparently. This is a horror show. Like a massive medieval battle was waged between the clumpys and the squishers and the dead litter the battlefield, a massive white-furred vulture looming overhead.
Something must be done. Perhaps it can wait until it's fully thawed and I can hose it all away in a river of liquefied excrement? Or maybe everything will melt, then we'll get a couple days of cold weather, just enough to harden the crap but not freeze it to the ground... A bucket and some rubber gloves? A rake and a black bag? Twenty bucks and a very resentful but hard up teen? The solutions are endless and none of them look very realistic.
Poop.
Writing -
The next morning, I slumped out of bed (I've got some sort of nasty crud sickness going on) and put on a pair of shorts. If it was gonna be this nice, I was going to celebrate! As I walked past the window, I noticed a quite lovely 3 inches of snow on everything that had fallen during the night. CURSES!
Now, it's a day later and while it's still quite chilly out, around forty, most of that snow has finally melted too, and our three feet of permafrost ice in the backyard has started to recede into the rear hills. Unfortunately, they're slowly revealing, archaeology dig style, layers of long forgotten dog poo. Lets do the math.... Between the two dogs, they eat nearly twelve cups of dog food a day. That's to say nothing of the assorted chewies, peanut butter treats, surreptitiously stolen foodstuffs and hunks of devoured teddy bears. For the last three and a half months, the snow's been too deep for the boys to go anywhere but a roughly eight foot square of hard packed yard just beyond the porch door.
Something must be done. Perhaps it can wait until it's fully thawed and I can hose it all away in a river of liquefied excrement? Or maybe everything will melt, then we'll get a couple days of cold weather, just enough to harden the crap but not freeze it to the ground... A bucket and some rubber gloves? A rake and a black bag? Twenty bucks and a very resentful but hard up teen? The solutions are endless and none of them look very realistic.
Poop.
I've cranked out about three thousand words in the last few days. Which will be great if they aren't all rants about poo!
The ROUS FAMILY -
