So I took the granddog walking on the beach this morning. Tide was in, and the rainstorm last night had carved the new sand into more cliffs and gullies, so I was either climbing up and down steps (okay, the cliffs were no more than a steep step high, but still!) or walking in the water, because the water was washing right up into the gullies. I had actual shoes on today, because I walked from the house, and it's a tad too far to do that in flipflops, so I didn't want to walk in the water. And it was pretty quiet, so I let Dolly off the leash to go chase birds. She had a marvelous time terrorizing all the little sanderlings and a seagull or two...
We walked back home, and because Dolly had been needing a bath anyway, and I let her chase the birds into the surf and she was all sandy and salty, I got out the dog soap and washed her. Didn't even have to pick her up and carry her this time (though I did have to drag her by her collar...that dog does NOT like baths. Never knew one that did, actually...). Got her all clean, turned off the water, went to put up the shampoo back in the garage, and slipped on the very slippery garage floor with my wet feet (took off the shoes to do the dog washing) and hit the ground very hard. Ouch!
I did manage to get myself up off the ground. I got very wet because I basically sat down in the water from washing the dog. There are a few bruises, a scrape or two, but I'm really sore. I went inside and whined to the boy (who needed to get out of bed for class anyway) and guilted him into picking up the dead bug in the hall I didn't want to pick up (and he did!) and wrote only a little because I was being a whiny baby--and tomorrow, I will have to get back to work!
I am such a wuss... Oh well...
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Do you not recall the time in the middle of august that Spot darted in from the backyard and ran straight for the bathtub got in and stared at us expectantly.
He'd figured out that a bath was the only way he got to stay inside with the AC.
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