I don’t care what they say, four inches is a lot.

Last night, I woke up at three o’clock, in the a.m., to some asshole’s dog barking like a freaking machine gun outside my window.  So me, being the super Matlock that I am, goes traipsing downstairs to see what all the fuss was about.  About halfway down I realize, “look genius.  you’re about to get your ass killed Texas Chainsaw Massacre style.  go get your hubbs to handle this shit.”  (I know, I  swear like a sailor at oh three hundred.)

Suddenly, it dawns on me, “I think that is my freakingdog!”

“Hubbs.  Wake UP.  I think that’s Eva outside waking up the whole freaking neighborhood!”

After a lot of mumbling and moving SLOWER THAN FUCK while that dog barks like a maniac! he finally rolls himself out of bed and moseys downstairs to see what the matter is.

Meanwhile, in my brilliance, I hang out the bedroom window to see if I can see her (she is midnight black so it’s a little difficult at oh three hundred with no moon.) and there she is.
Barking.

And Barking.  No matter how many times I whisper-yell “SHUT UP, EVA!  THE BITCH LADY IS GOING TO CALL THE COPS ON YOU AGAIN!” she just won’t shut up.

Finally, Hubbs gets her inside and settled down and stumbles back to bed.  He’s asleep before I can even ask him if there were lawn gnomes running wild our what?? So then I lay there for an hour pondering all sorts of craziness.  Like, remember that one time, at band camp… I mean church camp…. there were those guys that had a jalapeno eating contest.  Can you imagine the fallout from something like that?  Ouch.

Then this morning I go downstairs and complete my morning ritual of opening all of the curtains and what do I find but our glass slider open about 4 inches.  FOUR INCHES??? Four inches is no accident, people.  Four inches is a LOT.  (Well, in this particular case, 4 inches is a lot.)

Four inches is “Hey, I was just going to come into your house and try to steal your stuff- and then realize you have no stuff, and get pissed off and kill you in your sleep- but then Kujo started barking and acting like she was going to gnaw my leg off since you have forgotten to feed her the past three days so I  ran off down the street and she barked at my ass until I was long gone. That’s what four inches is, folks.

My bad-ass black lab/boarder collie mutt will eat your leg any day.  My drugged up on NyQuil loser of a husband might not always hear you coming, but Kujo will.

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5 thoughts on “I don’t care what they say, four inches is a lot.

  1. Pingback: will write for food…and then die of starvation « improperly forward

  2. Pingback: my bitch is in heat. what? she IS! « improperly forward

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