Friday, May 6, 2016

Does Mothering a Puppy Count?

When my alarm went off this morning I was completely oblivious and would’ve slept straight through if Vince hadn’t poked me in the shoulder to shut it off.

I loathe being poked in the shoulder about as much as Vince loathes listening to an unheeded cell phone alarm. But I was in such a deep state of sleep that I wouldn’t have heard a tornado siren if it had been set off inches from my ear.

Nevertheless, with the vestiges of a really weird dream still echoing in my subconscious, I blearily got up and struggled into my tennis shoes. I’ve taken to wearing socks to bed so I don’t have to add that task first thing in the morning.  If I could, I’d also sleep in the jacket in which plastic bags are conveniently stashed in the pockets so I wouldn’t even have to think before taking Maggie Minx out for her first nature call of the day.

Thinking is not my strong point first thing in the morning. Ask Vince.

But as we stumbled out the front door and Maggie made a mad dash for the grass to do her business, it occurred to me that I could probably use a Hallmark card this Sunday.  Do they even make, “Happy Mother’s Day from the Dog” cards?

If not, they should.  At least while said dog is a puppy. 

Note that I have never ever thought I needed a “Happy Mother’s Day from the Cat” card.  Even after cleaning up endless piles of cat yak and scooping countless clumps of kitty litter through the years. 

Cats are just not as needy as dogs. 

If I walk out of the room to take a shower, the cats have never meowed loudly to get my attention as if to ask why,  oh, why have I forsaken them?

When I leave the house to run a quick errand or to head to work or to do a little grocery shopping, the cats have never rebuked me for leaving them alone. In fact, they relish their uninterrupted nap time and Twinks probably yaks on the carpet on purpose forcing me out of the house to buy more carpet cleaning spray.

But dogs?  Well, dogs are something else entirely.  Sure, they give you lots of attention and act all excited when you walk in the door after being gone a mere 2.3 seconds to drop a bag of trash in the bin outside.

And puppies are in a category all of their own.  My house is a wreck; my carpets are a mess and I’ve spent more time outside without makeup greeting neighbors as I walk Maggie than I’ve ever been outside without makeup before. In my life.

Oh well. Such is the way of new additions, I suppose.  At least I don’t have to get up for 2 am feedings.  Or potty breaks. 

And it will be all too soon, I imagine, that I’ll be wishing for the days when Maggie was but a little puppy. 

So I guess I will try to relax and enjoy it.  And ignore the messy carpet and our less-than-pristine house. 

And, hey, the neighbors have all seen me now without makeup – so who am I tryin’ to kid? Those dark eyelashes are clearly the work of Maybelline.  And – surprise – my lips are not naturally tinted Perpetual Plum.

Like I fooled anyone before anyway.

But – like mothers of puppies everywhere, I know that I am stumbling outside without makeup first thing in the morning to walk her because I love her – not because I’m expecting a card. And when she looks at me with her big brown eyes and her little nub of a tail wags madly when she sees me, well, that says “I love you” right there.



And that’s good enough for me.  

Monday, May 2, 2016

I Second That Emotion

In the past week or so I have been, by turns, happy, sad, bemused, frustrated, silly, upset – and, well, a bunch of other adjectives I could add to the list to capture my emotions.

Lest you think I have some sort of personality disorder, let me assure you that these are merely the moments that make up our lives. 

Or at least I tell myself that I’m completely normal. I mean, we all go through different stuff every day – don’t we?

Like, for instance, one moment you could be happy you received an income tax refund this year and the next moment you could be upset that your cracked tooth is going to set you back a couple thou in dental bills.

Or you could laugh at a photo one of your best college friends texted and the next moment be frustrated because you can’t get Netflix to work.

BTD (that’s Before the Dog) I was pretty even-keeled.  Right now, being the owner of a puppy is a learning experience for me and I am going through some growing pains. 

For instance, I was upset for about five minutes (at least) the other night when Twinks and Maggie Minx got into a hissing/barking match and it upset Maggie so much she piddled on the carpet.  That was not a happy moment for me, and I’m wondering how long it will be before our cats and our dog can be in the same room without mayhem ensuing.

But, on the whole, I’ve been in a pretty decent mood.  Some things made me smile. And some things even made me laugh out loud.

The other day I brought Maggie into our bathroom while I took a shower. Believe me, it’s easier than listening to her pitiful barks from the kitchen as if she has been utterly and forever abandoned.  I was praying she wouldn’t think the room was her personal potty (unless she somehow miraculously learned to use the commode). But as I was rinsing off, I looked down and with my extremely myopic vision, managed to spot a little red tongue licking the water that had accumulated under the edge of the shower door.  I burst out laughing, which scared the dog – and made me laugh harder.

Guess it’s the little things, eh?

I also had to smile when I opened Facebook and saw a photo my sister posted of her new Mini Cooper. She has wanted one of those cars for a while now and I was really happy that she finally got it.

But the thing that made me laugh the hardest happened just yesterday.  Well, first I was frustrated – but then I laughed. 

Not our actual dog.
Vince and I decided to give Maggie a bath in the kitchen sink – the first one we’ve given her.  (She was bathed when we took her to be groomed, but since I didn’t have to do the bathing, it doesn’t count.)  She was not, as you can imagine, thrilled with this activity.

When we were rinsing her off she was squirming and wriggling around trying to escape, and we apparently pulled the sprayer hose a little too far out from its socket, which disconnected something from under the sink. 

This meant that every time we turned on the water, there was a waterfall inside the cabinet under the sink. Consequently, we had to pull everything out from inside the cabinet and mop up all the excess water. I opted for the simple solution and grabbed some rags, but Vince went for the big guns – our wet/dry shop vac. 

Not our actual Shop Vac.
First, he sucked up all the water and then he ran the blower to dry out the cabinet.  Maggie, of course, was barking ferociously at the alien-like creature that was making horrendously loud noises in our kitchen.

The din from both the machine and the canine was deafening and I’m sure our neighbors were thrilled with our efforts at livening up their peaceful Sunday afternoon.

Maggie continued to bark while I tried to shush her and calm her at the same time.  Yeah, like that worked. 

Suddenly, Vince walked toward Maggie holding the blower from the shop vac – and blew air at her.  She looked just like the pictures I’ve seen of dogs with their faces out of an open car window.  It was a funny sight – and, plus, it shut her up. Not to mention dried her off after her bath pretty much instantly. Some blow dryer, huh? 

And then, because I was experiencing a hot flash after all that commotion, told Vince to aim the blower at me.  Ahhh. Instant relief!  As we were laughing about it, I said, “We just might need to keep this thing out all summer…” Simultaneously, we looked at each other, then down at Maggie Minx and then back up at each other again and said in unison, “…or maybe not.”  

And then we started laughing even harder.

Maybe we were just a tad hysterical by that point, I don’t know. But it broke up the tension we were both feeling over yet another calamitous afternoon.

Yep, I do believe it IS the little things that make those frustrating or upsetting moments bearable. And I’m glad I have someone by my side who can make me laugh even when things are not going according to plan. 


And, no, I’m not talking about the dog.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

A Day “Off." Well, Sorta.

So, today I had the day off. No work commitments, no meetings, no lunch plans, no appointments, no nothin’.

Well, except for laundry, and dishes, and bill-paying, and bill-filing, and general clean-up around the house. 

Oh, and puppy duty, which is a constant these days. 

It’s all about timing.  Some days, I think I’m a genius at the timing thing.  Maggie Minx almost always piddles when we go out for a walk.  Several times.  Like she’s leaving doggie email for the other dogs to read that “Maggie. Was. Here.”

And when I triumphantly carry home a tiny little bag of poo, I think, Whew…hopefully, we won’t have any messes in the house today.

Most days, we don’t have any problems in the poo department.  But the piddle department? Well, that’s still a work in progress.  Sadly, those are the days I realize I’m far from genius.

I feel like we should have one of those big neon signs like they post in factories. You know the ones? It would read, “We Have Had No Accidents Here in X Number of Days.”  

The only problem is we haven’t even made it out of the single digits yet.

This, despite my carefully timed walks when I think she should go. And she does.  But apparently she still has some left, which is hard to believe in that miniscule body of hers.  And apparently, I haven’t quite broken the “Maggie code.” 

One of these days, she’ll be able to signal that she needs to use the, er, facilities and I’ll calmly put on her leash and we’ll saunter outside where she’ll do her business. And life will be good.

As it is, she makes these frantic whining noises and I think, “Oh, she has to go!” So we’d hurry outdoors, but all the stinker really wanted to do was roll around in the grass and see if any of her doggie friends were out and about.

Some of my neighbors, who are experts in the doggie arena, have well-behaved little canines who signal that they need to go out by gently tapping the bells that are affixed to the front door.

I thought that was genius…but I didn’t have anything around here that would work.

So off to the craft store I went. I bought some burlap and some jingle bells, and some decorations to spruce up my little banners so I wouldn’t object to seeing them affixed to the front and side doors.

This was a couple weeks ago and I was worried I wasted money on crafty supplies for a project that would never get made.  But, finally, today, I found the time to unholster my hot glue gun.  

Maggie cooperated by napping in her little bed beside me while I snipped and sewed and glued.  And, in the end, I had two pretty darn cute jingly banners. 

Now we just have to hope that Pavlov’s theory actually works. 

With Maggie Minx, there are no guarantees.


 

Thursday, March 31, 2016

Meet Maggie Minx

I haven’t written for a while because I was busy.  Or so I thought. 

Now, I’m way busier and am only taking the time to write because it’s nap time.

No, silly.  We did not steal a stray baby.  Instead, we got a puppy.  A 4-month-old Yorkshire Terrier we’ve named Maggie Minx. 

And now I know what “busy” is. 

Yeah, yeah, I know.  Parents of real humans of the diapered or toddler variety are scoffing at that remark.

But I haven’t washed my hair in three days. I haven’t finished an actual cup of coffee in nearly a week. And a task that used to take me twenty minutes to accomplish now takes at least an hour because I’m constantly untangling her leash from chair legs and table legs and Jane legs.  And I’m taking her outside mid-task to make sure she, well, “makes.”

I guess it’s a good thing I never had any little humans of my own, eh?

Nah. In truth, I think I probably would’ve been a pretty good mom, but there’s a reason they say that parenthood is best left to the young.  Probably aching backs and arthritic fingers have something to do with it.

So why a puppy now?

‘Cause we’re insane.

Haha.  I jest.  But, no, really, we must be insane to want to deal with potty trips outside in the cold and the dark and the rain.  And we must be insane to want nipped fingers and accidents on the kitchen floor and nearly as much tracked-in mulch inside as there is outside in the flower beds. Let the fun times begin!

But we’re insanely in love with this little face and wriggly little body with its wagging nub of a tail and big, fuzzy ears that stand at attention.  And we melt when we look into her big brown eyes that peek out from behind a mane of hair that, were she human, I’d recommend a trip to the hair stylist for a trim and dye job, stat. Her coloring could best be described as “ombre.” But she loves it when we brush and pet that ombre hair and we wouldn’t change a thing.

Well, except for the nipping and the accidents on the kitchen floor part.

Most people I know are surprised (to say the least) that I consented to having a dog around the house.  I’ve never had a dog before and never really wanted to deal with the mess and the daily walks and collecting and carrying dog poop around in little bags. Cleaning out cat litter boxes was enough grunge work for me, I thought.

Clearly, there are dog people. And there are cat people.  And, while many people have both, I was always a faithful, card-carrying member of the Cat People Only Club.
               
But who says a set-in-her-ways kinda person can’t change her mind every once in a while?

True, Maggie is a tiny little thing and is smaller than our cats, Twinks and Jinx.  And we’ve heard, “…but that is not even a real dog,” spoken by those people who have big dogs, like Dobermans or Labrador Retrievers. 

But I kind of like the fact that she’s “portable.”  I can carry her around in my arms without my bursitis-riddled shoulders screaming at me to put down my burden.  And she fits into a small carrier that doesn’t require an extra row of seats in our vehicle for potential road trips.

On the other hand, it’s not all fun and games quite yet.  Twinks and Jinx, as you might imagine, are not overly fond of our new addition. They wonder who this interloper is who has caused a wrinkle in their placid little lives and who has disrupted their evening treat-time routine with her ridiculous barking.  They wait until she’s safely tucked away in her bed with the door closed before they venture near for a quick pet and rub behind the ears. They sniff at our clothes and think, Darn, we weren’t imagining that creature…we can smell her scent on you.

(Because, of course my cats think in complete sentences and are capable of complex thoughts.)

The first several times Twinks came within spitting distance of Maggie, she arched her back and hissed at her while Maggie barked as if it were the apocalypse.  

Jinx, our scaredy-cat, has barely come out of hiding for the past five days. The one time she ventured downstairs for her evening treat, she looked at Maggie on my lap, gave me a look of reproach, and turned on her heels and retreated to her under-the-bed hiding place. 

We believe progress is being made, though. This morning when Maggie and Twinks came face-to-face, neither hissing nor barking occurred. They merely looked at each other for a moment and then Twinks walked away. 

So we are keeping our fingers crossed that doggie- and kitty-bonding will occur one day soon.  And we hope we have a peaceful home that integrates both dogs and cats in harmony.
 
Hey, I said we’re keeping our fingers crossed, didn’t I?!

I can’t wait until she’s a little older and accidents on the kitchen floor are a thing of the past and we don’t have to keep her tied on her leash lest she run wild through the house. I’ll be glad when we train her not to constantly nip at our fingers. And I’ll be happy when I get to see Twinks and Jinx again without fearing that I’ll have to make like a referee and break up a major battle.

Well, I suppose this little blog of mine is done for the day.  Why?  Because it appears…

[potty break. Yes, for the dog…]

…as if someone is finished napping.  And now I must sweep up the mulch and grass that we’ve tracked in after our walk.

Let the fun times begin!



Saturday, February 13, 2016

Is a Card Gift Enough for Valentine's Day?

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and people will be showering loved ones with cards, flowers, boxes of candy shaped like hearts and maybe even jewelry. The lucky ones, that is.

I’m usually one of the lucky ones, but we just came back from a quickie vacation in Florida and I don’t want Vince spending a lot of money on me. Not that I would ever stop the man if he insisted.

But he has given me more sparkly things than I have fingers, necks, earlobes or wrists on which to wear them. True, a girl can never have enough sparkly things – but I’m practicing restraint this year.

This would just look silly.
Yuh huh. I can too practice restraint.  (Okay…sometimes.)

And, truthfully, Vince shows me every day that he loves me by working as hard as he does. And he tells me so when he texts me T-O-Y (thinking of you) during his busy day. And when he surprises me by bringing home a bouquet of flowers on a random Tuesday "just because." So we don't necessarily need that one day out of the year to say "I love you" to each other.  

Rather than going out for an expensive Valentine’s Day dinner where the wait is long or the meal is rushed so the tables can be turned quicker, this year I bought some NY strip steaks and a nice bottle of wine. We’ll have a salad and maybe some roasted redskin potatoes. I might even get ambitious and bake something sweet for dessert.

Maybe.  I sometimes have grandiose ideas that don’t come to fruition.  If I don’t get out the Kitchen-Aid or preheat the oven, Vince could always have an ice cream bar from the freezer.  I could make it all fancy and serve it on a heart-shaped doily.  Yeah, I’m starting to think that’s the way to go.  I’m not sure I want to dirty the Kitchen-Aid today.

And, after all, nothin’ says true love like a dark chocolate almond Häagen-Dazs ice cream bar

Plus, I bought him a nice card. I got it a few weeks ago when the Valentine’s card selection was at its peak.

Yesterday I went to the store and the pickins were pretty slim. I couldn’t even find one that wished both a mother and a father Happy Valentine’s Day in one card – so I’m just going to have to call them. My parents will probably appreciate a call even more than a card anyway, so it’s all good.

I did find a generic Valentine’s card that I could have sent, but it wasn’t very impressive. And when I turned the card over and saw that it was $4.99, I was horrified. I mean, I’ll pay $4.99 for a nice card, but c’mon. A red heart on the front and the inside reads: “Happy Valentine’s Day!”?  Sheesh. That’s worth maybe a buck and a quarter – tops.  That Hallmark card writer must’ve lost his creative mojo that day. Either that, or he had recently broken up with someone and wasn’t feeling the love just then.

But if the price of greeting cards goes up much higher, I may start taking after Vince’s Aunt Betty.  When we saw her in Florida earlier this week, she told us a story about taking her granddaughter shopping once upon a time.  While they were at the store, Aunt Betty started perusing the birthday cards.  An elderly lady was standing next to Aunt Betty also looking through the rack of cards. 

Finally, Aunt Betty picks one out and calls her granddaughter over to her.  She says, “Here – read this!”  Her granddaughter reads the card and compliments Aunt Betty on the lovely choice and the perfect sentiment.  And then Aunt Betty plucked the card out of her granddaughter’s hand and put it back in the rack.  She said, “There – that was your birthday card!” And they both laughed.

But the lady standing next to Aunt Betty had a look of utter astonishment on her face, which only made Aunt Betty and her granddaughter laugh harder. 

But my guess is that the lady probably thought to herself, What a great idea! I wish I had thought of that myself.

Of course, the flaw in Aunt Betty’s plan is that we don’t always have our loved ones at the store with us while we’re shopping for whatever occasion it is that requires a greeting card.

I once knew someone who opened the birthday card I bought him, read it quickly, said “thanks” and then tossed it immediately in the trash.  Talk about wearing a look of utter astonishment.  I mean, you’d think he could’ve at least waited to throw the thing out until after I’d left.  But I made it a point to never again buy that person a card. I could have just as easily taken the cash and thrown it directly into the garbage can. No thought required.  

Conversely, I’m one of those people who treasures cards that I receive.  To me, it means that someone has taken the time to select a card and either mail it to me – or has actually delivered it in person.  You can’t beat that.

I still have cards from when I was a kid.  And, okay, so I haven’t saved every single card I was ever given – by this age, I’d need a separate storage facility to store them all in. But I do have a great many of them and when I see them, I’m reminded of that time in my life or the person who cared enough to send the very best.  (Oops. Another Hallmark reference. And, no, I don’t have stock in the company.)

Some people think occasions like Valentine’s Day are simply a way for greeting card companies, florists, chocolatiers and jewelers to get people to part with their hard-earned cash.  And there may be some truth to that statement given the amount of advertising they do.  But the holiday has been around for a bunch of centuries and who are we to disparage it? 

I like it when someone tells me they care – and it doesn’t just have to be my Vince, either. I cherished the Valentine’s Day cards I received in the mail from my Nanna when I was younger. She’s gone now – and I miss hearing from her. I’d even be okay if we could go shopping together and she showed me the perfect card she selected just for me – and then put it back in the rack!

So Happy Valentine’s Day, Aunt Betty. Thanks for the story. And this, by the way, is your card! 

And Happy Valentine’s Day to you all. I hope you have a sweet day. And even if you don’t have anyone special to celebrate it with, know that there are lots of people in your life who love and care about you.

Heck, take the time and do something nice for yourself. After all, you’re worth it. It could be sparkly. It could be some pretty flowers.  

Or maybe just have one of those dark chocolate almond Häagen-Dazs ice cream bars. No heart-shaped doily required.

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Trendsetter I Am Not

I’m not exactly what you would call “cutting edge” and I’m not much of a trendsetter.  Sometimes it takes me a while to get with the program and follow a trend.

And sometimes I avoid the program altogether.

Like, for instance, when the ripped jeans trend started, I couldn’t follow it. All I wanted to do was take a needle and thread to the tears in those jeans and stitch them back together.  Not the point, I know, but it was a look I could neither accept nor pull off.

Fortunately, my avoidance of cutting edge trends has saved me from later embarrassment a time or two.  As proof, I have two words for you: Parachute Pants.

Nobody looked good in those things and MC Hammer is still probably mortified. Sure, he made a lot of dough from his 80s hit, You Can’t Touch This, but in that getup who wanted to touch that? 

Enough said.

My trend avoidance isn’t solely related to fashion either.

When people stood around the proverbial water coolers at work discussing the latest doings on their favorite television shows, I was usually on the fringes staying silent because it was a series I hadn’t started following.  In fact, it’s only years later that I now know what the fuss was all about on series like Breaking Bad and Lost and Dexter.

Thank goodness for Netflix.

As a matter of fact, I have only just recently jumped on the bandwagon of a certain film series. You’ve probably heard of it – Star Wars?

Yeah, that one.  I had never seen a single installment of Star Wars. Ever.

I don’t know why, really. It’s not like I detest science fiction-type movies or anything.  After all, I really liked The Matrix and the Terminator and Men in Black.

Plus, Harrison Ford was pretty cute back in the day. (I still like him now, but would hardly call him “cute”!)

So when my sister, brother-in-law and niece were in town over the holidays and wanted to see Star Wars: Episode VII – The Force Awakens and asked me to join them, well, how could I refuse?

Besides, it’s not like I’ve been hiding under a rock for the past thirty-nine years since the first Star Wars movie premiered. I know all about R2D2 and Chewbacca and Princess Leia and her gold bikini. And something about Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia being brother and sister.  And, of course, I have heard the line, “Luke, I am your father” about a bajillion times – even though I also know it’s a misquote and Darth Vader never actually said those exact words.

Just for grins one time, I played a game of Star Wars trivia – and won. Go figure.  I must be good at guessing.  Or all that trivia passed through my subconscious at one time or another through the years.

So now I can no longer say that I’ve never seen any of the Star Wars movies. And who knows? I may even have a Star Wars movie marathon so I can really make sense of this latest installment.
 
Just don’t expect me to change my ways and become a cutting-edge trendsetter.

I have only ever worn green or blue nail polish when my Halloween costume demanded it and I don’t understand ombre hair. It still looks to me like someone forgot to make an appointment with their stylist. 

And speaking of hair…don’t even get me started on the whole man bun thing…


That’s a trend that needs to go away. Now.  Because it's unlikely that I’ll be around in another thirty-nine years to finally get it.  

Saturday, January 23, 2016

The BIG Trash Can Story

This is a story of the BIG trash can in Jane’s Domain. Normally, we wouldn’t be talking about things like trash cans as there really isn’t much to say about them.  Or so you’d think. 

But has that every stopped me before? Of course not! 

We can’t exactly call Trash Cans pretty. Oh, I suppose you could go all Pinterest on them and decorate them with stencils and paint and Mod Podge and such. But, in my opinion, they still wouldn’t be pretty.

So what could I possibly have to say about Trash Cans, you ask? 

Well, see, last week – while we’re still in January and I’m in the “Let’s Get Organized!” mode – I decided that I couldn’t stand our trash can situation any longer. 

So I ordered a new one. More about this in a minute.

When we moved into this house three and a half years ago, the previous owner left her trash can here. It is functional, true. And it has wheels, which seem as if they would be handy, but the can is not very sturdy and the wheels don’t roll very well.  So we are usually forced to half carry, half drag the can to the curb.

And – most importantly – the can doesn’t hold very much.  Perhaps the previous owner was better at leaving a smaller trash footprint than we do, but we frequently discovered that we couldn’t fit all our weekly trash into that one can.

So we (meaning “I”) often left the trash in bags on the floor of the garage until it was Garbage Night and then we (meaning “Vince”) had to figure out how to fit five bags of garbage into a can that holds about three.

Needless to say, neither of us is fond of Garbage Night.

Plus, a few months ago, the garbage men, er, “sanitation workers” hauled away our trash, but ran over the lid to the trash can.  Thanks, sanitation workers! 

So even though I struggled to push the lid back into its original shape before it got run over, it never fit correctly on the trash can again.  Which meant that once the lid was down on the can, it could be lifted off only with a winch and/or a body-builder on steroids.  As I have neither of those handy on a routine basis, I rarely attempted to remove the lid in order to deposit a bag of trash into the can. 

So last week I compared prices for new trash cans.  And, boy, was I shocked.  Lemme tell you: trash cans ain’t cheap!  Nevertheless, I was determined to solve our trash situation. 

Normally, I would simply order from Amazon.com using my Prime membership (and “free” shipping), but their prices were significantly higher than the local Lowe’s Home Improvement store.  Plus, it would be nearly a week before the can would be delivered.

Instead, I knew I could order online from Lowe’s and go pick it up that afternoon without paying a delivery charge.

And the benefits!  The can from Lowe’s has a permanently attached lid, so that it would never again get run over by sanitation workers.  It has sturdy wheels so we never again have to drag the can to the end of the driveway. It is large enough to hold all our trash. And the reviews were overwhelmingly positive.

Satisfied that I’d made the correct move, I purchased the can and drove to Lowe’s to pick it up.  It was, by the way, a frigid 18 degrees outside.  But I assumed it would be a quick trip and I’d soon be home basking in the glow of solving our trash problem.

I arrived at Lowe’s and showed the paperwork to the clerk who sent a runner to the back of the store to retrieve my trash can. This took about 20 minutes and, while I realize Lowe’s is a big store, it wouldn’t take me 20 minutes to reach the back.  So I figured the runner maybe took a smoke break while he was back there.

When he eventually wheeled the can up to the Service Desk, I thought, Yeah, that’s definitely big enough.

Never did I think, Hmmm, I wonder if it will fit in my car?       

I should have.  Because it didn’t.

I confidently wheeled it out to the parking lot and up to my car. My four-door Audi A4.  A sedan.  NOT a truck or an SUV, as were just about all the other vehicles in the parking lot. And now I know why. 

But I thought I could simply pull the front passenger seat forward as far as it would go and then slide the can into the back seat. 

Yeah, that didn’t work.  While the bottom of the can fit, I couldn’t get the top of it in.

So then I popped the trunk and I folded down the back seat. And attempted to lift the can into the trunk, but couldn’t even get the bottom part of it in. 

By this point, I knew that pretty much the only way I would’ve gotten that can home with my car was to either strap it to the top – or drag it behind the car. 

Neither of those options sounded reasonable.  Plus, I didn’t have any bungee cords.  And, yes, I was at Lowe’s and could have gone back in and purchased some, but I’m not well-schooled on bungee-cord application.  I’m never really sure where to hook them securely without pulling off important parts of the car.

In defeat, I turned around and headed back into the store wheeling my brand-new trash can. I took a little comfort in the fact that since it was only 18 degrees outside, probably no one was watching me and laughing as I tried to fit a 64-gallon trash can into a small sedan.

The clerk suggested I rent a truck from them for $65  – something I was loathe to do.  Or they could deliver it for – you guessed it – $65. 

I told the clerk that I’d simply find a friend with an SUV or truck and would be back to pick up the can. 

Except that their paperwork showed that I had already picked up the can.  So in order to keep their paperwork straight, they had to “return” the can and then reapply payment to a “new” trash can. Which would then be waiting for me in the back of the store.

This process took another 20 minutes. By this point, I was sincerely wishing I had paid the extra money to Amazon.com.

But I was determined to get that infernal trash can home, so I spent the next two days trying to figure out who would take pity on me and drive me to Lowe’s to pick it up.

Fortunately, I have wonderful neighbors. I explained the trash can situation to Suzy who arranged a trip to Lowe’s with Pat who came to my rescue. 

Pat’s husband has a big red truck (I suppose I should know the make and model for reporting purposes – but all I know is that it’s shiny and new and has a fancy interior and you have to climb up really far to reach the seat.)  It certainly seemed big enough to handle my BIG trash can.

So we walked into Lowe’s and picked up that trash can and confidently wheeled it out to the truck.  We picked it up – and slid it in.

I’d love to report that it fit easily inside the truck, but it barely fit!  We had to bungee cord it in. (Apparently Pat is more well-schooled on bungee cord application than I am.) 

Nevertheless, we were able to close the tailgate and get the trash can home safe and sound. 

So now my trash can situation is solved.  But, strangely, I’m still not excited about Garbage Night.

Hunh.  Wonder if I should check Pinterest for those stencil and paint and Mod Podge ideas?

Nah. I’m just happy the darn thing fits in the corner of our garage.