When I was in high school, we had this little old, frail, bent over English teacher who was widely feared. Mrs. Fuller. She was older than God, and I think she has passed away by now.
She was a lovely woman, and introduced me to more great literature than I was exposed to in college and graduate school combined. Not that her lecture skills were great: her idea of lecturing was dictating notes while she made her dinner. Then, she would play them for us. And she made us write. Boy, did she make us write: a 5 page paper every three weeks on a book read outside of class. That was in addition to Lalich's book review and research paper. Five papers, typed on a typewriter, when you are 15 years old, every nine weeks. If that doesn't make or break you, I don't know what will.
I was thinking of Mrs. Fuller today because she always used to call Tuesday Dumb Little Tuesday. She couldn't see that it had any value in the week. Monday you dread. Wednesday is hump day. Thursday is So Happy It's Thursday. Friday is TGIF. Saturday and Sunday are the weekend and Sabbath. You get the idea. But Tuesday? Just Dumb Little Tuesday.
Well. I am having a Dumb Little Tuesday.
I started my day by stepping in cat shit with heels on (on a day when I actually wore a little heel with my slacks). I then cleaned up cat shit, not realizing that I had stepped in it.
Until I got into the car and smelled it. Dropped kids off for school, and headed for work so I could wash my shoes before my early morning meeting. Got pulled over by a cop for doing 30 in a 20 MPH zone. He must have a) recognized me from when Sam was hit by a car and b) realized that a ticket would result in my license being suspended, and I was in a minivan for chrissakes, and a dented and dirty minivan at that, because he let me off with just a warning.
I got my shoe washed, got to my meeting and was greeted by friendly black stray puppy in the parking lot.
He was still there when I got out of my meeting.
So, I called animal control to come and get him. I am inspired by the stories I read of people picking up stray dogs and putting them in their cars, but I was late, I was dressed up, and I knew that animal control would take him the same place I would. We have one shelter in town, and they don't kill their animals.
I am dying to drive out and see him and see whether Rufus's siblings are still there... But considering the fact that the cat shit I stepped in this morning was Rufus's and we are taking him to the vet today to de-worm him, maybe I should just assume that doggy and siblings are fine and NOT GO.
Yesterday, Sam appeared to have laryngitis due to a cold.
Today I am starting to think maybe his voice is changing.
Nocturnal emissions I can handle, but I am so not ready for this.