How we go over the edge.

I’m pasting this from a closed caregiver support site, so I’ve edited out stuff that could identify the source.  (Caution: coarse imagery and language)

It is the kind of story that is at once funny and tragic.  You have to laugh, but you have to recognize that this is the steady drip (or poof) of stuff that wears caregivers down and makes us nuts.  It’s always one more &#&#^ thing.

I got home from work, my honey is in bed not feeling well, and I decide I will take a relaxing hot bath. I deserve a long soak. I get a cup of tea, turn on my audiobook, get all settled in, and my dog passes gas. I don’t mean a little fart, I mean green noxious fumes fill my bathroom. The kind of dog fart that leaves a taste in your mouth. I know it’s not personal, but come on, all I wanted was 30 minutes of peace. Now my honey is yelling “did the dog $@#+ in the house?” Loud enough for the neighbors to hear, and I’m aggravated. Now my supposed “best friend” is laying on the couch like he deserves a dog treat. All I wanted was a damn bath.

 

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