"Reality is a hallucination brought on by a lack of alcohol." -unknown (no I don't mean me)

This morning I woke up (actually that is a lie, in order to wake up, one must first sleep, and I didn't do either). So, this morning I gave up, and got out of bed around 5:00. After seeing hubby off, I put on a pot of coffee, and looked out the back door, discovering that the dogs (see unpleasantly large animals pictured on left) were gone. Chewy (the one I'm not supposed to own on the top left) was the obvious culprit. I say this with complete confidence, because Cleo (the one that's supposed to be clean and indoors on the bottom left) sneaks out like a teenage girl. She goes out a hole under the back fence, that she assumes we don't know about. If she thinks we might be looking outside she won't acknowledge the hole exists.....she won't even acknowledge the fence exists! She's good. Chewy on the other hand sneaks out like a teenage boy. He wedges his nose into the largest, most obvious gate in the yard, pries it open, knocking over cinder blocks, and leaves it wide open, so that he can saunter back in when he feels like it.
They were gone. And I didn't want to go looking. A few minutes later a loud banging noise compels me to return to the back door, this time I discover that two robins have flown into my french doors, and committed suicide.....at the same time. (I don't know if this was a Romeo and Juliet kind of thing, or if they were just stupid.) Problem is, they did a lousy job of killing themselves and so flailed around, bleeding on the back deck for several minutes. At this point I decided that coffee would help, so I poured some, and thought about doing something productive....but before I could even sip the coffee, the dogs came wandering back into the backyard and Chewy (remember the one I'm not supposed to own) was soaking wet. Picturing the carnage that would ensue if the dogs got to the now (hopefully) dead birds, I panicked and ran to grab shoes and shovel, and threw the bird (that's right one bird, but I'm choosing not to think about that) over the fence. As I went to grab the hose to clean the blood off the deck, Chewy (still not supposed to own him) brushes up next to me, and I realize that he is soaking wet because even a dog knows he should bathe after being sprayed by a skunk.

Short story long, I washed the bird guts off the deck, ignored the giant, stinky dogs, closed the fence, and replaced the cinder blocks, went inside, washed my hands, and finally drank some coffee. It was almost 7:15.......a.m.

Not sure why I posted this riveting tale of my wonderful morning, other than just to see it all typed out.