If you were up all night worried sick that Talu and Edsel didn't survive their PetSmart grooming, you can now finally toddle off to bed.
Edsel was happily oblivious.
"Hello, I'm June Gardens," I said, old Shake-a-Puddin' on one leash and smiling Edsel on the other. "We have a 12:30 appointment."
The girl behind the counter started scanning her appointments like a bouncer. Was I on the list? She looked twice, then turned the page.
I had already had an unbelievably frustrating conversation that morning with Citibank, because I had sent them a payment of $150 and it only cashed for $50. I have carbon copies of my checks, so I KNOW it was $150. The person I spoke to, who I think understood 32% of what I was telling her, kept putting me on hold then saying, "Yes, mum. Your checking account will not be charged $150."
"But I WANT to be charged $150!" I kept telling her.
So you can imagine my sparkling mood when the girl at PetSmart acted like she'd never heard of Edsel and Tallulah Gardens.
"They're on the list," I snapped. "I just CALLED here a few hours ago. We discussed what kind of breeds they are, and whether I wanted their fur cut. This is ridiculous." Oh, I was in a lather.
In the meantime, poor Talu got shakier and shakier while she eyed the Yorkies getting trimmed on tables.
Edsel was happily oblivious.
"One moment, ma'am," said the girl, looking horrified of my foot-tapping self. She conferred with the groomers and said, "We can take them."
"Well I should HOPE SO," I ranted, handing over practically convulsing Talu and smiling oblivious Edsel. "Come on, girls," said the receptionist to my dog, which further annoyed me.
Then when I got home I looked at the blog post I'd written yesterday and realized I got there at 12:30 and their appointment, according to what I had written here, was at noon. I had been so bitchy that poor girl was afraid to tell me.
June. Turning into the grandmother who used to make salesladies cry since 2007.
The other good thing, as if anything good has been reported thus far, is that of course it was SATURDAY at PETSMART, so there were kittens to hold and doggies who needed homes. Oh, I fell in love with a giant white Pit who had a blue eye and a brown eye. He was a sweet baboo. With his big big head. There is nothing that charms me more than a big square Pitty head.
I tried lifting him out of there and replacing him with Edsel, but I totally got caught.
I should go, as I am lunching with The Other June today and surprise! am still in my robe, but I did want to tell you I watched a royal family/Windsor Castle documentary last night that was loaned to me by Faithful Readers Chris and Lilly, who have become my friends in real life.
You know, I've made so many friends in real life from this blog. Aren't there any single straight men reading this thing who think I am da bomb?
Why a single straight man would read this blog is beyond me. Still. Why a single straight man would think I am da bomb is beyond me. Still. Why a single straight man would think "da bomb" to himself is beyond me.
Anyway, when you are a guest at Windsor Castle? And pay attention because that is probably gonna happen, ever. They unpack for you. And pack your bags back up exactly they way you packed your bag. They make a list of what went where. Which for me would be funny. "Wad up that shirt in the left corner. Shove a bunch of underwear into that shoe."
And some idiot has to measure, with a ruler, that all the glasses and plates and stuff are sitting exactly the same. It is very important for me that my cereal I am having for dinner be exactly where I want it on the couch while I watch TMZ.
Okay. I had better start getting cute for my lunch. Going in a time machine to 1989. BAH! Also? I might unpack today from when I went to see Miss Doxie last weekend. Who annoys her own self? I'll bet I even annoy the pets.
Other than Edsel. Who is happily oblivious.