In my house.
No, I do not leave in a mansion. It's actually a very modest house. And she's a big dog. Like 80 pounds big.
It was after I put the kids to bed, so both of their bedroom doors were closed.
I was standing at the sink washing bottles and the dog was whining at the door. I told her to give me a minute.
A minute later I went looking for her to take her out and she was no where. I mean no where.
I looked in our bedroom. Not there.
I looked in our bathroom and the spare bathroom. Not there.
I looked in the living room. The dining room. Not there.
I walked around the house about 5 times. I whistled and called out to her. She wasn't anywhere.
Last ditch effort I checked the garage (I had taken some mama's milk out to the deep freeze), but I knew I did it before I washed bottles. She wasn't there.
Then she came sauntering into the kitchen. From the living room area.
I have no idea where she was hiding.
I'm not sure, but I'm thinking maybe I'm going a little crazy.
Tired much? Because I lost things all the time while exhausted during Fynnie's beginning. (On a side note, I recently told Tom that I was instituting a house rule that the girls have to look for their missing items themselves. He may or may not have laughed and said, "How's that go for you?" There is no "looking for things" house rule. Because, really, 33 months is still the beginning of a very long life. Right?)
ReplyDelete