STS & Freakin’ Foley [8-22-07]

2 Jan

Remember how I have STS? You know, safe toilet syndrome? I avoid public bathrooms and stuff. Well, the house is gorgeous, but as I said before, the walls don’t go to the roof—not even in the bathroom. The bathroom is next to my bedroom, which is next to the living room, and you can hear everything. Not good.

While I’m contending with the bathroom situation Foley is dealing with her own bathroom issues. Mainly, she thinks she has to wake up in the middle of the night to pee. This sucks at my apartment, but it really sucks when there are no walls. The whole house can hear her asking to go out. Remember her silent attack of shaking to jangle the collar, scratching, pacing, and whining? Even worse, when I did finally take her out the dogs that live in the house barked at us when we open the door to come back inside. Foley wakes up the entire house—not good when you’re a guest. The second night we are there, I decide to ignore Foley when she thinks she needs to go out at 3 am. She just got louder! I’m freaking out: Either she wakes everyone asking to go out or she wakes them when we come back inside—not optimal. In my desperation I decide to give Foley the acepromazine prescribed for the car ride that she hadn’t needed. Instead of making her quiet down and go to sleep, the ace didn’t really touch her. She kept asking to go out, only now, instead of walking around she was staggering! At one point she managed to get under the bird cage and flop around loudly. She was trying to stagger back out and the birds started squawking! It was terribly loud. I was freaking out. I was supposed to be living in a 5th wheel because the people didn’t really want more animals in their house. Foley was going to ruin everything! Homelessness is not the best.  I thought, well, Foley is out of it enough to lie on the bed with me. I’ll just spoon her until the ace kicks in. I put Foley next to me in bed and waited for her to relax. 1 hour—she was still trying to jump up. I had to put my arm on her and hold her down. 3 hours later, she was still struggling to get up. I must have fallen asleep for a second because I suddenly woke up with wet shorts. Foley had urinated on me in the bed! Not awesome. I had to change my shorts, strip the bed, and scrub the mattress with my shampoo. I left the bed to dry and went about unpacking my car and stuff, leaving Foley in the room to lie down. She had finally relaxed 6 hours after her pill—when it didn’t matter anymore.

The owner of the house came up to me and said she had signed me on to the internet. Great, except the home-owner (I need to come up w/a nickname, don’t I?) had to walk past the bed to get to the computer. It looked like I wet the bed!!! I knew she thought I was a bed-wetter when she didn’t tease me about it. . . I thought about telling her the story, but I didn’t want to get kicked out because of my unruly dog AND the story just sounded like a lie to me. I mean, even though it’s the truth, it sounded like it might be a lie, you know to cover for my “problem.” So great, not only is my dog obnoxious, I look like a bed-wetter—I’m NOT!!!

That day, I went to the university to take care of some things. The spaghetti bowl sucks a lot. What with the 70 mph traffic slowing to a stop for no reason very suddenly. I got back home and smelled something funny. I stepped into the room I was staying in and walked through something wet. I jumped out of that and stepped in something else. There was diarrhea on the entire carpet. The ENTIRE carpet!  Ugh—the ace didn’t work on Foley but still managed to upset her belly. It sucked. I moved her onto the tile in the bathroom and used my laundry soap to scrub the floor. To reiterate:  The ENTIRE floor. Not awesome. Now, not only did I appear to be a bed-wetter, I appeared to have had an accident on the carpet. . . My whole wing of the house smelled awful. It’s hard to be a considerate guest when animals are involved-ugh!

Ok, so I can’t totally blame the animals. . . Yesterday I had a beer, then 4 coffee martinis in succession. I was highly drunk. I went to let Foley out of the bathroom and she had peed on the floor—big surprise. I had brought in paper towels just for that purpose though, so it wasn’t a big deal to clean it up. Remember I was gone at this point, and so was my good judgment. I thought it would be a good idea to flush the paper towels so they wouldn’t smell in the trash. So I went ahead and flushed the urine-soaked paper towels and went back to my business of talking and laughing outside. I little while later my belly was slightly upset so I went ahead and vomited a little—you know just to make more room. I was too drunk to feel bad at that point.  After I threw up I flushed—and the damn toilet started to overflow! Oh no. So I used more paper towels to clean up the water on the floor, then drunkenly tossed them into the toilet too. I tried to flush again, but the vomit/paper towel/water just sat. I was like—that sucks, and went back outside to have 2 more glasses of wine.

Later I passed out, but that was short lived. At 1 am, I was wide awake, most likely from all the coffee in the martinis. . . It was a good, good time though. Cleaning the toilet today, however, was not.

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