After spending all night wrestling with a restless dog (really, the dog-- not Doc H) in my bed, waking up at 5:30 am, cleaning the vacation home all day until 3pm, and driving 215 miles home in the pimp mobile (a 1997 minivan with gold rims, the most stylish black bra you've ever seen, and a tear the size of Texas in the leather of the driver's side seat) with two dogs, two kids, a box of Red Vines and a frozen, organic, free range ham (don't ask), we finally arrived home to an empty house at 7:30 pm. Doc H was still at the hospital. We hadn't seen him since Sunday morning and have hardly spoken on the phone.
I put the dogs out in the yard and noticed all my flowers and plants have fainted from lack of a clear liquid simply called water. I opened the hose to quench their thirst.
Twenty minutes roll by and a tasmanian devil spins through the front door, and house, and out the back door to our yard only stopping his wreckless spinning to utter in disbelief...
Me: "Ummmmm....... hi?"