I Swear I Didn’t Kill Anyone


Doesn’t it look lovely? I spent the weekend in Wilmington and upon my return, I decided to tackle the kitchen. I had a slight change of plans and now plan on leaving NC sooner than originally planned (wow, I just typed a lot of variations of the word plan) so it is important to clean out the refrigerator and pantry, seeing as how tomorrow is trash day. So that is why it looks like my kitchen threw up piles of food to throw away, donate, and keep for the next couple of days. Fun!

Even more fun? Having a trash bag break just before putting into the trash can. Seriously, this mess looked like I slaughtered an animal or at the very least, a very small person. I know the picture is underwhelming but trust me – it was bad. And you know, it isn’t exactly the most welcoming addition to the porch of a house that has been receiving a fair amount of showings and one that the owners are very anxious to sell. Just then, Weston decided to throw a tantrum more reminiscent of a two-year-old because I wouldn’t let him go ahead and play in the carnage. I quickly pushed both him and Lucy inside and went to work picking up shards of glass covered in red gunk and putting items in a new garbage bag. I even managed to cut my hand! After I was able to put the trash in the trash can (imagine that!), I went to the side of the house to grab the hose. Of course I couldn’t get the hose secured on the spigot (it was off due to the freezing conditions) and cursed as I attempted to insert object A around object B to no avail.

When I went into the garage to grab a bucket, I could no longer hear Weston’s screams and was pleased to hear him squealing happily by the front window. Good enough for me. After I filled the bucket with water, I preceded to dump it over the mixture of tomato sauce, jelly, and balsamic vinegar – noting how I really was acting like someone who just committed murder. After all, television always depicts the murderer cleaning up blood with a bucket and sponge, never with a hose or steam cleaner, which (at least to me) seems like a more viable solution.

So after I cleaned up the mess CSI perpetrator style, I discovered the reason why Weston was quiet (too quiet) in the house. Yup – him and Lucy were sharing a box of peanut butter flavored dog biscuits. I have no idea how many were consumed between the two of them. Oy. And that is why I am now drinking wine and continuing on about packing and such. I find that less things bother me this way.

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