My week was pockmarked with poo.
Let’s see, the dog freaked out because of all the noise the contractors were making and pooped on the living room floor.
Then he walked through said poo and tracked it all over my white sofa.
The contractors phoned to let me know they left that disgusting little package as delivered. So, I arrived home after a long day of work to demo chaos and the delightful aroma of dog poop.
My daughter caught a stomach bug the day after the second presidential debate. So instead of stumbling into bed after a night of late coverage (which lasted well into the morning), I spent the wee hours of the am comforting a weepy toddler.
That and changing an endless stream of diarrhea-filled diapers.
To continue my brown streak, I was forced to go to the hellmouth (better known as the DC DMV) on Friday for some car business.
The evil she-demon
woman at the counter sent me back repeatedly to get duplicate forms and more info. And she ignored me and talked about her chihuahua’s trip to PetSmart when I returned with the required info.
Then darn if she didn’t send me back for yet more info.
So at 10 minutes till close I sat hunched next to a wall plug nursing my dying cell phone and negotiating with my car company to fax info.
Then she let out a rump noise that sounded like a dying walrus.
That could mean only one thing.
“Poo poo!” she cried.
I had one bar on my phone.
I was on hold for just the info I needed.
The DMV was about to close.
And the evil queen was glaring.
So I whipped out my handy poop changing arsenal, folded a jacket over my kid, plopped her flat, and changed Z right in the DMV lobby.
Then I looked the wicked witch in her eye and deposited that dirty diaper right in the lobby trashcan.
Here’s poop in your eye DMV…
Too bad I still have to go back next week.