After spending all night wrestling with a restless dog (really, the dog-- not Doc H) in my bed, waking up at 5:30 am, cleaning the vacation home all day until 3pm, and driving home in the pimp mobile (a 1997 minivan with gold rims, the most stylish black bra you've ever seen, and a tear the size of Texas in the leather of the driver's side seat) with two dogs, two kids, a box of Red Vines and a frozen, organic, free range ham (don't ask), we finally arrived home to an empty house at 7:30 pm. Doc H was still at the hospital. We hadn't seen him since Sunday morning and have hardly spoken on the phone.
I put the dogs out in the yard and notice all my flowers and plants have fainted from lack of a clear liquid simply called water. I open the hose and start quenching their thirst.
Twenty minutes roll by and a tasmanian devil spins through and out the back door to our yard only stopping his wreckless spinning to utter in disbelief...
Me: "Ummmmm....... hi?"