Since selling everything in preparation to travel the world I’ve been shocked at the number of times I’ve missed all the stuff that we sold, donated or gave away. Shocked because I never miss it. Ever. In fact, I can’t even remember what we used to own that I loved so much. I should have taken pictures.
But last night, for the first time ever, I missed our stuff.
Yesterday evening after work Brian and I rushed home, let the dogs out, then immediately left again to meet our new friends Jim and Rhonda for happy hour.
In 2007 Jim and Rhonda left their jobs and traveled around the world for a year and a half. They’re back in Oregon for now but are plotting their next grand adventure: driving the Pan-American highway in a truck camper. Amazing.
After a few hours of travel talk and delicious extra-hoppy beer, Brian and I went back home where we parked it on the couch to indulge in our new addiction: marathon-watching Modern Family. Why haven’t I been blogging much lately? No time. Must.Watch.Modern.Family.
Finally, it was time to hit the sack. I shuffled into the bedroom, changed into my pj’s, threw back the covers and discovered a mysterious and rather large wet spot in the middle of our bed.
What the f*@!?
I leaned down to investigate, inhaled deeply, and the pungent smell of dog pee rushed up my nose and smacked me in the back of the brain.
What the f*@!?
In the 10+ years that those four-legged critters have been a part of our family I can count the number of times on one hand that they have peed inside the house (puppy training aside). And on those rare occasions we came home to discover a puddle at the back door where our poor little doggy patiently waited and waited for us to come home until she couldn’t hold it any longer. But peeing on our bed? It’s completely out of character. And, also, completely disgusting. I’m no dog whisperer but the only conclusion I can draw is that those dogs were sending us a big, evil, wet message: Do not leave us alone in the evenings, it pisses us off.
We shouldn’t have been surprised. We’ve caught the dogs doing questionable things before. Wine? Puppy pictures? And now peeing on the bed? What’s gotten in to you Bear?
I stripped the quilt off the bed: wet. Peeled the comforter off: wet. Pulled the flat sheet off and the fitted sheet: wet and wet. Next came that smooshy foamy thing: also wet. Finally, I pulled the final layer off, a white, padded somethingorother that we received as a wedding gift. It was wet too. But luckily our last line of defense paid off because the mattress beneath it remained dry.
I looked around the room.
We had a mattress, a dry mattress, but that was it. All of our blankets and sheets were huddled into a stinking, wet pile on the floor.
That was the moment I missed our stuff.
I thought back to our spare bed with the spare comforter. I thought about our closet piled high with blankets and sheets. I thought about our washer and dryer. Man, I really miss that washer and dryer.
Our spare bed with our spare comforter. You know, when we had that kind of thing.
Ironically, Brian had been outside taking the dogs to pee when I discovered the little valentine. He came back in and I showed him the mess. He dug inside our closet and pulled out our sleeping bags, rolled them out on our mattress and looked at me with half-grin. Problem solved.
So we spent our first night on a rock hard bed of questionable cleanliness not is some hostel in a foreign land but in our own little apartment right here in Portland, Oregon.
We’re considering it practice.