A Perfect Waste of a Perfect Day...
This is a problem this week as I am planning on singing on a CD tomorrow. Singing while stuffy is not good or nice or beneficial to someone who is sending out a demo to professionals.
So, SuperNan decided to help out by feeding my a little pink allergy pill.
She may as well have slipped a Roofie in my drink at a bar as I subsequently spent the next six hours unconscious.
And it was sunny out for the first time in weeks!
Dixie is my dog. Mine, dammit!
Today there were some hydro workers on the road, ridding the countryside of trees that would be in the way of us getting our trusty hydro services. Before the six hours of unconsciousness occurred, I went to the store and managed to drive by some of these rather attractive characters. On the way to the store, I was wondering how I could go about stopping to chat with these men.
On my way back home from the store, I was giggling to myself about the ways that I could stop and ask these lovely creatures for help.
Lo and behold, my Dixie Dog was trotting her little self over to chat with the hydro workers. I stopped the car directly beside them, the gorgeous sweat pant-wearing goddess that I am. I thought to myself how smooth and chatty I could be with my unwashed hair and makeupless face.
I promptly decided to holler at the dog, toss her in the back seat, and sqeal my tires as I made my studly way back to the ranch.
I give her props though, at least for trying. How many girls can say that they own a dog who tries to pick up cute, employed men for her?