This weekend, Mr. Wonderful and I stained his patio furniture. On Sunday night. Pretty much in the dark. Because he was certain it would take an hour.
It took three and a half hours. Back-breaking hours.
The furniture looks great. We picked a very mellow green stain, and the furniture? She is fresh! And lovely! And Martha would be so proud.
But my aching arse? Not so great.
Last night, I was enjoying a moment of respite, my back flat against the living room floor, my elevated knees providing a bit of relief to my aching back. And then?
I saw stars. And tears flooded my eyes. And I realized that I had just been head-butted by Geriatric Poodle, who navigates by ramming the top of his head into walls and furniture to get the lay of the land.
He rammed his head directly into my nose.
While I gathered what little composure I manage regularly, I held my hand over my throbbing nose and considered the facts. I could feel my pulse in my nose. I had a sudden, splitting headache. And there was absolutely no way in hell that I was going to let an 11-pound, blind and deaf poodle break my fucking nose.
So. My nose is fine. And I don’t have to categorize this episode with the time that Foxie Doxie gave me a black eye. All is well.