The Great Poo Apocalypse

I’m going to come out and say that poo is not what you want greeting you first thing in the morning.

Imagine this night owl waking up at 7:30.

Image taken by Tigran Markaryan of Calypso Digital. Blue scrawl lovingly added by Emmie Mears.

Now imagine my face when I see the puppy coated in poo.

No.

Yep. Buffy the puppy had an accident. It was a quite impressive accident, actually, and it set the tone for Friday in a philosophical, poo-covered sort of way.

I got to give her a bath, try and dry her off amid a cloud of white undercoat that vacates her follicles every time she gets wet. And then I get a rap at the door.

I’m holding her by the scruff because her collar is still off, and I invite the police officer into the house.

Yep. Police officer.

You see, our downstairs neighbors do this thing where they crank the bass on whatever music they’re listening to up to eleven. And then they turn the whole volume up enough for us to dance along through the floor. After one of the tenants punched the wall by Spouse’s head when he came down last autumn to politely inquire about the possibility of them turning it down, we decided to stick with a mediator in the form of our impotent building management.

And then the police. We called them once when they had their music blasting enough to vibrate our floors for four hours straight, and then we called them again last night when it persisted past quiet hours.

Oh, have you seen my ghost? Seen my ghost, seen my ghost? (It’s in the picture.) But seriously. Can my neighbors read?

I got to hear the nice police officer explain to the irate woman downstairs that ringing the police at 9 am to report that our dog was…jumping? Something. Anyway, he told her it was a waste of police time. And then she complained that we called the police when they were having a party.

If you will all rise with me for the collective Holy Headdesk and repeat after me: D’OH.

“Oh, you were having a party? Noise ordinance still applies. You need to be civil.”

(I think it’s safe to say that cops don’t like it when you mouth off to them.)

Thus began my Great Poo Apocalypse, from actual poo to po-po, though the officers we’ve met have nothing in common with what I cleaned off of Buffy and her crate this morning.

The bright side of life today?

I’m halfway through my first pass editing Shrike. And I’m noticing that I absorbed a good amount of Margie Lawson’s rhetorical devices during my first read of the packet, because I counted lots in the text. But more on that later.

Anyway, I snagged a box of my favorite tea, the holiday Celestial Seasonings Candy Cane Lane (I hoard) and went downstairs to try a peace offering with Loud Neighbor. I knocked lightly on the door, and when she didn’t answer, I said, “Ma’am, if you’re home, I would like to have a peaceful conversation. I brought some tea, and I was wondering if we could sit down and talk.”

She didn’t answer.

Is the world going to end today? Should my husband and I relocate to a quieter area? I think the answer to both is maybe. 

What do you think?

 

 

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About Emmie Mears

Saving the world from brooding, one self-actualized vampire at a time.

Posted on July 27, 2012, in Emmie Thinks She's Funny, life intervention and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. Well, if she is willing to talk that is one route, but if she hasn’t made an effort to respect her neighbors by now, she probably won’t. Good luck with that. And bummer about the poo. That’s just nasty.

  2. Great scowl, ha ha.

  3. Poo definitely brings on the scowls … whether it’s cleaning up the sweet pup or excessively noisy neighbours who just don’t give a poo! Kudos to you for attempting the peacemaker route.

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