S's First Morning in Minnesota: I Did Not Drink Last Night
I am disoriented and confused!
It's 5am, and the Buds want to eat breakfast. Since this is when the DNB usually feeds them before he leaves, I can't fault them for disturbing my slumber.
Groggy, I put my slippers on and start to walk out of the bedroom. As I do, I notice a small white mound on the carpet. If not cocaine, I think, then what? I examine it closely. Aikane wants to eat it. White Dog Vomit? Still uncertain, I pick it up gingerly with a tissue and throw it away.
Walking downstairs, I am assaulted by the loud sound of a "Girls Gone Wild" Paid Program. The TV is off, but the tuner is on and appears to be playing at full volume. I stand there for a minute, trying to figure out what is going on. I come up blank.
The Buds want to eat, so I fill their bowls and let them outside. As I wait for them, I spot a pile of poo on the floor. WTF? I stare at it. The Buds have been with me all night and to-date through the morning.
The obvious conclusion I reach at last: a not-so-clever burglar has broken in, watched television, spilled his blow, and taken a crap on the floor. Unusually undisturbed by this thought, I check the lock on the front door, collect the Buds, and head back to bed.
It's 5am, and the Buds want to eat breakfast. Since this is when the DNB usually feeds them before he leaves, I can't fault them for disturbing my slumber.
Groggy, I put my slippers on and start to walk out of the bedroom. As I do, I notice a small white mound on the carpet. If not cocaine, I think, then what? I examine it closely. Aikane wants to eat it. White Dog Vomit? Still uncertain, I pick it up gingerly with a tissue and throw it away.
Walking downstairs, I am assaulted by the loud sound of a "Girls Gone Wild" Paid Program. The TV is off, but the tuner is on and appears to be playing at full volume. I stand there for a minute, trying to figure out what is going on. I come up blank.
The Buds want to eat, so I fill their bowls and let them outside. As I wait for them, I spot a pile of poo on the floor. WTF? I stare at it. The Buds have been with me all night and to-date through the morning.
The obvious conclusion I reach at last: a not-so-clever burglar has broken in, watched television, spilled his blow, and taken a crap on the floor. Unusually undisturbed by this thought, I check the lock on the front door, collect the Buds, and head back to bed.
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