While furiously cleaning the house today, as we have a number of guests coming to entertain Child 1 and Child 2 while we’re off having Child 3, I took a whack at the laundry room (also home to our second pantry and a closet full of junk that just hasn’t found a good home elsewhere).
Being industrious – and a bit of a mop-wielding masochist – I decided to move the washing machine and give a good scrub under there, as it hasn’t seen daylight in several years. Upon moving it, I came upon:
- A crisp one dollar bill – my lucky day!
- A large patch of what was either dried up dog puke or dog pee, although were I a betting man with a crisp new one dollar bill (hey, wait…) I’d wager on the puke aspect, given the chunky bits. Adding to the esophageal ambiance was a metric ton of dog and cat hair fully caked into the former morass of goo that was now solidified nasty-ick.
Perhaps they were signs from above… the dollar to help me out with the avalanche of medical bills that will follow from tomorrow’s procedure (I picked a fine year to scale back my medical insurance to the cheap plan) and the goo as my own personal warm-up comedian preparing me for the hilarity that is those first few newborn diapers.
See, and that’s why I don’t believe in God, because, dude, that’s just mean.
We’re off to the hospital in the morning. Should have babydom by early afternoon. Updates then.