Irritable

I am irritable this morning. Let me give you a run down.



Our precious pup, Lucy, is part beaver. As in, she chews anything and everything that is made out of wood. Including our mouldings, and, most recently our door frame. It's quite attractive and makes me so excited to entertain. The "chewed up and spit out" look goes well with the broken front window that hasn't been repaired since we discovered it was broken six months ago. It's alright. It's double paned. For dessert, Lucy chewed a whole in the quilt my great aunt made that I've had for years and years. Unfortunately, Aunt Gert died in 2004, so repairs can't be made unless I'm really really good at sewing class or Aunt Gert decides to come back and haunt us for letting a four legged beast ruin her handiwork. Why was the precious quilt on the bed, you ask? Let me tell you.



Our sheets were dirty and the OTHER blanket that we have on our bed (that's chewed to smitherens but we still use it because it's big and nobody really ever sees our bedroom anyway) was absolutely disgusting. Why didn't I just wash it? GREAT question! Our dryer went kaput. As in, won't even make a noise. It died a quiet death, evidently. Luckily, it managed to dry a load of towels beforehand or we'd really be in trouble.

Do you know how lucky we are to have the incredible invention of the dryer? I didn't realize how the dryer rivaled the importance of Starbucks until I got home last night and looked at the ginormous pile of clothes that were just lumped in my bedroom floor amid the chewed moulding and Aunt Gert's quilt and almost freaked out. Husband, being the genius that he is, immediately called SIL to see if we could make a wash/dry run at her house. She, of course, is a saint and said of course! See you in a bit! Which is why I was over at my SIL's house until 11:15 washing and drying clothes. And making my niece cry. Because I'm awesome like that.

The thing with Victoria happened like this. We pull up. She runs out to the truck and is all, "Kelley, can you please help me pick out something to wear tomorrow?" And I'm like, "Sure! I will share my fashion savvy with you and we will have a lovely time!" All was well in the world. Then she pulls out a shirt from Abercrombie & Fitch. Girlfriend is 9. Okay, that is another post altogether on why little girls should NOT wear clothing from places whose walls are adorned with half naked teenagers frolicking around in fields. They should wait until they are 13. Like watching PG-13 movies.

Anyway, where the shirt was purchased was beside the point. It was way too big. Because it was a WOMEN'S EXTRA SMALL AND SHE IS A CHILD may have had something to do with it. She had it on with capris and the shirt was somewhere around her kneecaps. Not a good look. Me, being the big mouth that I am, told her so. She didn't like it. AT ALL. And then she promptly burst into tears, leaving me to feel like the biggest fuddy duddy in the history of the world for not agreeing that the dang A&F ensemble didn't look fetching and fabulous.

Victoria and I eventually made up because that's we always do when we have a fight. It's like having a little sister sometimes. Perhaps I just have the mentality of a 9 year old, but I prefer to think of it as "relating."

Anyway, that was my night. Our dryer is still broken as of 7:20 this morning when I walked out the door. I can pretty much guarantee it will still be broken when I get home. Luckily I have an equally saintly BIL who is coming to take a gander at it tonight. God bless them both. Hopefully there will be less irritation tomorrow.

*My SIL was not responsible for the purchase of said A&F shirt.*