So get this:

Today, MONDAY MORNING, of all days, I’m waiting for our apartment maintenance guy to get here so that he can “paint” the tub in the hallway bathroom. The former layer of paint had bubbled up and started peeling. And I’m a picker. I can’t help but pick at things, although I do stay away from the nose. That would be MY nose, so if I know you well enough and you’ve got a ‘crusty’ hanging, I may just pick it. Another random thing you probably don’t know about me, is that when I see someone in public who has a blackhead on their face, it takes everything I’ve got not to want to reach over and pop it. But then I think about touching a stranger’s face and I’m over it. But I do have to look away. So I digress..

ANYWAY!!!!

I was told by the office staff that I’ll need to leave the apartment because the fumes will be too strong. Ok, I can do that. But that also means it will be too strong for our dog Baylee. And our (indoor only) cat Esther. ugh.

So what THAT means, is that I will have to load the dog, the cat in her crate, their food, water, and Esther’s litter box into my vehicle (my dad’s 1988 Ford single cab pickup truck) and leave for a couple hours. Where’s a girl and her dog and cat supposed to go?

And does the Queen look like she wants to be disturbed?   I DON’T THINK SO.

I think of Baylee and Esther as my (furry) kids, especially after my boys left to go live with their dad. I just can’t help it. But the thing is, they act like kids too. They fight like cats and dogs! (HA!  just couldn’t help myself!)  Actually, they get along most of the time except when Esther gets bored and tries to swat at Baylee’s face with her declawed paws.

Since the office couldn’t give me a specific time as to when the Tub Guy would show up, I have been packed and ready to leave at a moment’s notice. All I have to do is get Esther in her crate-which could take HOURS if you remember this. She’s psychotic psychic and totally hides every single time I need to take her somewhere.

At last Tub Guy shows up, so I start to round up Esther. She’s hiding under our bed, as usual. Long story short, I had to roll the mattress halfway across the room while she kept crouching along under it. Finally I was able to pull her out from underneath. She gave me the hissing treatment. Obviously, this isn’t a good Monday for her either.

Now I’ve got the cat in the crate, the dog on his leash, my bags on my shoulders. I ask Tub Guy-who-mostly-speaks-spanish how long it will take for him to do the tub. He says about half an hour. I ask him about locking up when he’s through, and this is what he says:

EES OK, YOU STAY HERE, NO PROLLEM.