Okay Sunday, I surrender.
Last night my friend and I came home to the dog shitting on my bedroom rug, the cat shitting in a dark corner the living room, which I found by sticking my hand into it, trying to find a plug in the darkness. Which I then flung, stepped in, and general madness ensued.
So far today I've had to deal with the dog peeing on my bed sometime in the night (or possibly yesterday and we didn't notice it because it was dried and dark, and YAY to sleeping in a bed with pee) and the trip to the laundromat that required, then the dog peeing on my rug as I was commanding her to get out of my room, then the cat barfed on the same rug because OH MY GOD MY HUMAN IS UPSET HERRRKK, then dragging my memory foam mattress top out onto the lawn to pour boiling water over where the dog peed, which resulted in be pouring boiling water over both of my bare feet in the process.
I managed to get myself into the shower, fully clothed, to spray my feet in cold water. Then slathered them in egg whites and wrapped in clean, dry paper towels. Now I am sitting on the porch, chain smoking, trying to understand why the fuck today is so hard. In what cosmic sense does the last 15 hours of my life require trauma by every manner of excrement?
Sunday, you win. I am TKO'ed. I surrender.
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