You need to read yesterday’s post before you read this one. No wait, this one stands on its own.
I went to the library to return books last night (they ought to name that place after me, due to all the money they’ve gotten from me over the years. Most recently from the DVD of Spacecamp which my mother checked out while she was visiting and nobody remembered until it was six days overdue. At $1.00 per day. And guess who can’t find the case for the DVD? I might as well just buy the library a new copy right now.)
So I got back from the library and Arabella mentioned in an oddly cheerful voice that she had thrown up while I was gone (but it wasn’t because she’s sick, she insisted. She merely threw up because York was showing her a smooshed up cracker in his mouth and it was simply so disgusting that she couldn’t keep her dinner down. What is she, some kind of Victorian?)
I asked her where the mess was so I could clean it up and was surprised to hear her say that it was already clean. (The kids might not bother me when they throw up, but they’re certainly not cleaning anything!)
“Oh, yeah,” she replied. “The dog ate it all.”
Good heavens above! That is revolting. But hey, thanks Maggie!