If you were to come over to our house today and peek in our bathroom there are three things you would notice right away.

From Daily Daguerreotype

1. It’s about time for the bathroom’s weekly cleaning, but I’m sorry… I’m too busy compulsively working on my 3 year old quilt to realize, care, or do anything about it.
2. There is still no door. Matt found five layers of paint on the door that he was painstakingly trying to strip using The Worst Chemicals Ever before we decided to spring for a heat gun to peel off the old paint. As strange as it may seem, the bathroom door is low on his priority list because he’s a notorious Project Finisher and wanted to complete the laundry room first to fill his deep internal void. At least this is what he claims. I have a feeling he is putting off the bathroom door until LOST is over to prevent me from inviting people over for weekly LOST parties. He claims I “chitchat” too much during the tv show when we watch it with other people. WHATEVER.
3. And then this one… a grody tennis ball sitting on the pedestal sink. Shall I zoom in for you?

From Daily Daguerreotype

Yes, a drooly, filthy once-bright-pink tennis ball. Anyone who has spent five minutes with Berlin has figured out that she is OBSESSED with fetch. It could be considered clinical… or just the “golden retriever” in her. So every time I’m in Target and they have tennis balls in the $1 section, I pick up a bag. Or two. Or two hundred.

Well they seem to get lost in the backyard frequently, so we’re always pulling out new balls for her to play with. But then out of the blue she’ll find an old ball, and it’s always at the most inopportune of times. Like this morning when she was up and ready to go outside at 6 am. Matt walked her over to the back door and opened her doggy door which she quickly bounded through. Five minutes later I got out of bed for my 911th trip to the bathroom, and who should come in to join me but Berlin with her dirty, stanky backyard find. Knowing full well that when I headed back to bed she would lay down next to me on her own bed and tear the ball to shreds leaving felt and rubber pieces all over the bedroom floor, I quickly confiscated the ball and placed it out of her reach… on the sink.

She was devastated and went back to her bed to pout. Until she found another ball out of reach under my dresser which kept her occupied for about an hour.

So is a nasty tennis ball sitting on our bathroom sink unusual? Not at all. Just stroll through our downstairs and you will find them everywhere. On top of bookshelves, the fireplace mantle, hidden in drawers. Inevitably when I go into labor and need to be packing up my hospital bag, instead I will be frantically running around the house collecting old tennis balls and sanitizing the surface they were sitting on because MY MOTHER WILL DIE AND KICK ME OUT OF THE FAMILY WHEN SHE SEES THESE!

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 4th, 2010 at 2:40 pm and is filed under Daily Daguerreotype, Dog Park, Family, The Idiotic Things I Do. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.