Our house is still for sale. We’ve had some interest but no offers yet. So I continue to clean. Everyday.
I cleaned so much that I actually broke our brand new Dyson (I thought those things were indestructible).
It doesn’t suck… actually it does suck, it just doesn’t have suction. So it’s going back to Dyson to be placed in the Vacuum ICU for a few weeks.
Great news when I’m trying to keep this house spotless.
So what does this have to do with wanting to be a dog??
You better sit down. I have some news. Hubby thought it would be a good idea to take the dog with him this week while he works in Halifax. So get this… the dog is staying in a hotel for the week.
Let that sink in for a minute.
Hubby and fleabag/Wacko are living the life at the Westin Nova Scotian while Cinderella is here in Sydney with the stepsisters (beautiful daughters) keeping the house clean.
THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG HERE, PEOPLE! Something very wrong.
Check this out from the Westin’s website.
In case you can’t read it… “We offer the Westin Heavenly® Dog Bed to our four-legged guests.”
I just threw up in my mouth. The damn dog is in a “heavenly dog bed” tonight. Me? I get the lumpy old mattress and probably an early morning invasion from one of the kids complete with a kick in the head and a few hours of clinging to the edge of the bed to save my life. Sounds pretty heavenly, eh?
Meanwhile, hubby and fleabag will be content in their heavenly beds… they will get up, go for a walk, have breakfast. Me? I’ll probably clean a few toilets, fight with some kids, make lunches, brush my teeth and run out the door with shoes that don’t match and still arrive late at work.
And don’t think that Wacko needs a vacay… she doesn’t have a rough life here.
It really is a dog’s life.
I need some wine. I do miss the fleabag…