Ugh

This is entirely hideous but this is true: Briar, who is fifteen and deaf, but otherwise sprightly, has sprayed a beautiful serpentine of diarrhoea on the slate by the front door. It arcs gracefully throughout the hallway and she has managed some Murakami-like spraying of the walls as well. I know it's there. I've looked at it and I know what I have to do. But I just can't bring myself to get down on my knees with a scrub brush and rubber gloves. No-one else is here. No-one can help. Every time I walk towards the "area in question" she looks sheepish. She feels terrible for her indiscretion and I know that she tried to wake me last night to go outside and I ignored her. She is also a LARGE dog. Now I know why people keep chihuahuas. Reduced catchment area.

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On another note, I have become great friends with the lady at the guard gate at the Summit, where I drop off Minks for her school bus ride. Her life has been a living hell with the swirling tornado of what Perez Hilton calls "Un-fitney." Yes, Britney Spears lives there, paparazzi, ambulances and all. "Can I drive in" I asked Tuesday, as I do. She looked at me, raised her eyebrows archly, looked at the gate. "Well I suppose that's okay" she said cautiously. "It's only me and my arsenal of cameras" I said. She looked momentarily terrified till I grinned. "Ha ha, good one" she said.