Pancakes and Dog Shit.

Answer me this..is it all men that can step over a load of dogshit in their path to the kitchen and go about their day?

Or is it just the idiot I married?

I awoke to the smell of pancake syrup and doodie this fine Sunday morning.

Hmmm, what an interesting yet nauseating combination, I thought.

Let me add here that I am a cranky bitch when I first wake up.

I make a point to wake up an hour before it is necessary on week days just so I can drink coffee until the urge to add cyanide to the rice krispies has abated.

But on the weekend, I like to sleep in and sometimes other awaken before me. I usually avoid human contact by immediately getting in the shower or bath tub to clear my mind and my temper. If that doesn't work, I will lock my bedroom door and absorb myself in a novel for a few chapters.

Hey, whatever keeps the fam alive.

The problem was that the smell wafting from the next room required immediate further investigation.

I opened my door and the scent got stronger. Well, at least I was on the right track.

Three steps into the dining room and there it was. The dog load from hell. If I didn't know better, I would have said a Great Dane had snuck in to do his business and not the little yappie dogs that reside here.

Okay..well, that explains one part of the equation. Now where is the sweet smell coming from.

SCM was in the kitchen with my daughter and her overnight guest flipping pancakes for breakfast while the little girls munch happily away.

With dog shit within ten feet.

On the floor.

Of my home.

His explanation?

"Oh, I figured I would let it harden so it would be easier to pick up."

I don't think I need to write how that explanation went over with the mood I was in.

Donations to his medical bills are being accepted through paypal.com

Number 103 doesn't need further explaining.