Full Moon Friday

Holy dear sweet Jesus, it has been a crazy 24 hours.  I had such a nice little relaxing Friday planned yesterday.  It was 76 glorious degrees here in the Carolinas, and I was LOVING it.  Peggy Sue got spayed a few days ago, and I've been trying to keep her from cutting backflips, chasing the cat, and running so fast her back end tries to pass her front.  But she kept looking out at me from her crate like, "Come on, man.  Why you so mad?  I'll be good.  Don't hate me."  So I broke down and let her hang out around the house with me while I flung open all the windows, turned on my ceiling fans, drank peach tea, and pretended it was May.

Well, Pegs got left alone for about 3 minutes while I was switching out laundry.  And in that amount of time, her little sneaky butt got into my big canvas lawyer-school-bag and dug out a whole pack of Orbit wintergreen.  And further, she demolished said wintergreen gum into 948593 teeny tiny pieces.  Pegs gets into enough stuff that I generally shrug my shoulders, think to myself, "Ehh, the [cat poop/squirrel bone/leaf/newspaper/rock/stuffed animal] will come out in the wash eventually."  But for some reason, when I caught her with that gum, I just sort of automatically reached for the phone and called the vet.  Really, I expected them to reiterate my initial come-out-in-the-wash thought, but they panicked.  Which caused me to panic. So I drove like the devil was after me to get her to the vet, and they made her throw up a whole lot of minty goodness.  And then they made me take her to the emergency vet to stay all night so that her blood sugar could be monitored. Fortunately, she didn't eat enough to cause her to go into liver failure, so thank goodness for that.  And this morning, she is wide open, not a bit sick.  It was a rough night though, and I hope we don't have to have another emergency vet trip anytime soon.

That whole long story was to tell all of y'all that if you have a dog - keep them out of your sugar free gum!  Apparently it's worse than chocolate for a dog, and I sure didn't know that before this happened, I just got lucky because I happened to call the vet. Scary stuff.

After all that, I woke up this morning to find that my power was off.  That didn't seem like a big deal at first, even though I was supposed to be at a divorce clinic at the law school all day, helping folks fill out their paperwork to get the big D.  I just figured I'd go with scrungy hair (I know, scrungy isn't a word, I made it up) and shower later.  Call me gross, but it's Saturday, and being at the law school on a Saturday when it's going to be 70 degrees and sunny will likely cause me to break out in a rash immediately.

However, then I realized that my car was in the garage.  And oh, right, the garage door works by electricity.  Which I don't have.  At that point, I did what any girl in my situation would do - I called my dad.  He said, "Well you can probably get the door up, just pull on that rope hanging down from the garage ceiling and use it to pull the door up."  Right.  So that ended up with me literally grabbing onto said rope, dangling from it with all my weight off the ground, and the garage door not moving.  Not even a centimeter.  I kept thinking someone had intentionally cut my power and set up a candid camera just to watch me attempt to get my garage door open.

I moved onto option 2, which was grabbing onto one of the metal slats on the back of the garage door and muscling it up.  Well, then I realized I'm not tall enough to get it all the way up.  Once I got a step ladder, I got the door all the way up, and then I realized it wouldn't stay.  So I'm standing there, holding the garage door up, wondering what in the world to do next.  I finally ended up propping the door up with a flat metal rake, and backing the car out.

That sounded really simple.  What it really involved was me holding my breath while I backed the car out under the door that was supported by JUST A RAKE.  And I forgot to mention that I had my mom's Cadillac XLR because my car was in the shop. Her brand new Valentine's/anniversary present XLR.  Oh. My. Lord.  I can't believe I made it out.

But anyway, that's what's up with me.  I made it back to the emergency vet to pick Peggy up, and got her crazy self over to my parents' house so that she could hang out with Mom while I came to divorce clinic.  And now our clients are one step closer to be happily divorced!  I really loved that we had a question - "What if you don't know what date you got married?"  I'm thinking that if you need to ask that question, I'm pretty sure that I now understand why you're getting divorced.