Cleolinda Jones (cleolinda) wrote,
Cleolinda Jones

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So last night, I have to dogsit. Again. You know, even though I theoretically get weekends off. But my stepfather has a Celebration Winds concert--he's a non-profiteer by day, a drummer by night--my mother's the, uh, groupie, and Sister Girl's at work, so I'm the only one left home. So I'm trying to sack out and watch Spider-Man II on TV, which (amazingly) I had never seen, despite having put the first Spidey in the book, but forget that, because the puppies decide to surpass themselves in badness. My mother calls on her way home and is laughing at my rants/reports, and then she gets home and actually sees the damage.

"What were you doing, exactly, while they were wreaking havoc?"

"Well, they divide and conquer, is the thing. You're chasing one around over here and the other one's eating the plant in the kitchen. Also, that plant outside in the green pot? You don't have that plant anymore. I found Scout and Shelby playing tug with about a foot's worth of root, and then an hour later I found Scout digging in the pot and eating the dirt."

"But how does it happen, exactly? It's like a tornado came through here!" She's standing in front of me while I'm (finally) getting to eat dinner, two large garbage bags in her grip. "Am I just better at this, or something? Because it never looks like this when I'm--"

"Hey, what's Scout eating there? Behind you."

There's some kind of--dirt? dark crumbly stuff?--spread out on the carpet behind her, and Scout's shaking something.

"Oh! That's a tea bag!" my stepfather says helpfully. Scout has houdinied it right out of the garbage bag, somehow, right under my mother's nose.

"Scout! You know better--SCOUT! STOP POOPING, SCOUT!"

Thank you, by the way, for all the condolences for Meko. I think my stepfather's doing a little better now. I cried a little, and I miss her, but it's hard to think about anything for very long these days, what with the Puppy Rampage going on 24/7. I thought I was hoarse from yelling at them, but I woke up this morning with packed sinuses and the sore throat from hell, and somehow, my stepfather's come down with it too. (Sister Girl's gracious well-wishes: "AAAAAHAHAHAHAHA, you have what I had!") So I spent the day wrapped up in blankets with Advil and Allegra-D and 10 cc's of homemade milkshake and TWO COKES, which is important when you realize that I kicked Mountain Dew back late last summer, and the only time I have caffeine, usually, is when I get a frozen Coke at the movie theater. And I have not been to the theater since... Damn, I don't even remember what I saw. The Namesake? Something like that. So now that the medicine's also had a little time to kick in, I am SO VERY, VERY ALERT.

Also, I have realized something about myself. I am really, really good at world-building and creating casts of thousands and engineering all these complex sagas. I am really, really bad at following through with any kind of finished story or novel. I've come up with two complex premises--characters, settings, storylines, the whole shebang--in the last month, and I am getting absolutely nowhere with them. Woe.

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