When I get around to getting LASIK, I will finally be able to see which things on my floor are poop, and which things are not poop. Some people complain “Oh yeah, I can’t see the alarm clock when I wake up.” If I could wake up on time, that might be a bigger problem. My biggest complaint is that I don’t want to experience the cold squish of hours old dog poop between my toes in the morning.
Bear with me as I explain.
I have a dog who is not reliably house-broken. This is partially because he was abused as a pup before I adopted him, and he has a wretched case of separation anxiety. However, plenty of people have this same situation, and it’s not a problem for them.
Dogs like structure. They like going for walks at the same time every day, they like the same food, they like an owner that is predictable and does the same stuff every day.
I hate structure. When I see patterns or traditions, I immediately look for ways to dismantle them. I’m always starting projects around the house, and bringing in 2x4s or tearing out walls. The dog goes insane with fear. This used to annoy me, and then I realized that 99.97% of the world comes home after work, goes through the same routine every day, and the dog knows what to expect.
For me, sometimes I sleep from 4pm-6am, and sometimes I don’t sleep at all at night. Sometimes we go to the dog park for hours. Sometimes we don’t. Sometimes his food bowl is in the bathroom, and the next month it’s under the piano, and the next month I’m trying it outside.
Needless to say, the total and utter lack of structure for the dog creates the ideal environment for pooping on the floor.
Enter my messiness. I have socks scattered on the floor, perhaps a watch, a heap of RCA wires, maybe a shoe.
Enter the dog and his terrible gas. Once, I woke up because I thought the house was on fire. Turns out that the smell of burning wires and paint was actually my dog farting at night. It’s horrendous. I’ve heard of things smelling so bad that paint peels off the walls. This is beyond that – it’s actually putting a green film up over the paint that is peeling from general life-chaos.
Enter my blindness. When I wake up and try to find my contacts (wherever the hell I took them out the night before), every dark thing on the white tile looks kinda like dog poop.
Enter the lack of house-broken-ness. There’s a 21% chance that I’ve gotten the dog thrown off his schedule, and he needed to go out at a time that I wasn’t around. So… he has left me a surprise somewhere.
In conclusion – the room smells like poop. There are dark things on the floor. I can’t see if these things are socks or poop. And, some where, some morning, one of those dark, out-of-focus things, will actually BE poop. Unfortunately, it will probably take a poop toe-massage to get me excited enough to go get the surgery.