The difference a turd can make

I get home from work, happy to be off for the weekend even though I only worked 3 days this week. I walk though the living room to the kitchen to the back door to let the dog out. I check the phone for messages. I'm thinking about where I'm going to go for my jog this afternoon. I'm thinking about taking a route that I haven't done in a few years. I'm excited to try this route out again. I walk back across the living room to grab the bag of popcorn out of my purse. I'm going to have popcorn for a snack and I'm looking forward to it. I plan to eat popcorn, then go for my jog. I wonder if I should cook dinner tonight, I don't really feel like it. Maybe we'll order in. Then I'm heading back across the room to put the popcorn into the microwave and it happens...

I step on something foreign. Not hard enough to be a rock, but not soft enough to be a dust bunny. I know I just swept the floors last night so I can't imagine what I could have stepped on.

Tell me it's not dog poop.

Tell me it's not dog poop.

Tell me it's not dog poop.

Please don't let it be dog poop.


Ohhhh.... it's dog poop. A little doggy turd.

Socks off and into garbage. Paper towel to pick up dog turd. Gagging. Notice that the dog turd has a friend laying a few feet away. Pick up second turd. Gagging. Hiss and give laser eyes to the source of turd who is quietly watching the events unfold. Wash foot in bucket of bleach even though turd never actually touched skin. Have a mini bonfire on back porch and burn garbage bag containing paper towel, turd and socks that touched turd.

Fuck the popcorn. Fuck the jog. Fuck the dinner. Go to bed. Crawl under covers and hide in dark bedroom where there are no turds. Hopefully.