Domestic Chaos

Quoting my cousin Heather Camille who bills herself as the CEO of Domestic Chaos, my recent experiences indicate that a domestic if not national merger may be in order if not immediatley pending. Background info--Friday January 23rd, we adopted a 2 yr. old red faun male greyhound--trained as a racer, but never raced due to lack of 'chase'. Friday January 23--after my teenager touches my Mac G4, it stops working. I'm sure it was a coincidence, since it was an 8 yr. old computer and not due to the massive downloading of crap from the Internet. As you probably guessed, Jesus saved better than I did. So I am freaking out that I cannot access any of my files. 

January 27th: I'm up at 6am to get the kids on the bus by 6:50am. Come home. Close my office door, so the new doggie doesn't 'access' my files. Apparently there was a demon in my office, who thrust open the file cabinet drawers thus blocking off all entry to my office. Shock, quickly replaced by immediate panic. Only my cell phone, laptop, car keys, purse, house keys, brief case and life are in that office. And I'm already late for the first of many appointments that day. 

In the movies, it is very easy to break down a door. In real life (bruised hand and jammed knee later), it's not that easy. I had a choice--to either break the office window or the door. I chose the door--no slivers of glass to pick out of my papers. After punching and karate-kicking it, I did not manage to budge the door a single inch. However, I completely freaked out my poor dog, who ran full-speed into the sliding glass door, conked his head and knocked himself flat on his back (in the yogic dead bug position). 

How could I take a concussion-laced dog to the vet with no car keys or purse? Thankfully he recovered and I put him outside, while I continued to pound on the door with my feet and hands. I was late to work and traumatized my dog, but eventually managed to break down the door without an ax. Rock-0n Girl Power. I am proud of my Laura Croft Tomb Raider Warrior strength. Ian is not so happy, since I splintered the door frame. 

Did I mention the rabies-infested rat-like rodent, which leapt from the kitchen counter, touching my foot and scurrying under the refrigerator? It was probably a large mouse. My lame-ass cat couldn't get his fat body off the couch long enough to even smell it, much less kill it. The dog was scared. 

Of course this is hilarious when it is a sitcom, not so much when it is really happening