Today seemed more routine than ever. Except for the little dog.

Over night, the little dog decided she couldn’t wait, and released some icky poo in her kennel. This made her uncomfortable, and the bedroom stink. For some moments prior to bedtime we’d briefly considered letting her sleep in the older dog’s bed, as she’s been sleeping in the kids’ room. Thankfully, we don’t completely trust her housebreaking training, she’d barfed the night before, and she’ll chew carpet or shoes, or really anything else she finds enjoyable, so we decided against it in a three word debate. And I’m glad we decided.

She made enough noise to wake me, and then the stink hit. I slid a window open and took her outside, and then put her in the downstairs kennel.  I was going to go back to bed, but then thought I should clean that kennel, which would wake the wife, and that’s never good two days in a row. So I crashed on the couch.

Then we cleaned the kennel in the morning.

With the extra dog interaction, my allergies kicked in. Turns out I may be allergic to our dogs. Whoops. I take antihistamines every day, because I’m also allergic to other things in the house, neighborhood, or state, so the dogs are tolerable in reasonable doses. These are not reasonable dose times, however. Because of the extended time at home, in temperatures still not friendly to opening the doors, and with all of the additional traffic and activity, and not any additional vacuuming, my allergies are exacerbated by just about any air movement. This leads to some post-nasal drip, which leads to some coughing and other respiratory discomfort that I’ve been fighting since last summer.

I don’t think I have COVID-19, since these are all symptoms for which I received advice and an albuterol prescription. The prescription is for when the restriction gets too uncomfortable and breathing is hard. Also combating this well is a little Mucinex, which helps thin the mucus and keep it from being problematic. We’re out, though, so the last few days have been wheezy and uncomfortable. So I made a Target run to get some more.

The run also included some additional fruits (they don’t last long with everyone home) and other perishable groceries. I wasn’t able to find these coconut butter biscuits I’ve found I like (they had lots of peanut butter, though), but they did have the coffee creamer I’ve been using a lot of, and I grabbed some more of the compost-friendly k-cups, too. Stuff like that.

Because I’m self-sufficient, know the drill, and didn’t really want to interact with anyone, I headed to self-checkout to check myself out. As I approached, I saw over the barrier gondolas that there were a number of empty registers. There was only one guy in line, and as I got closer, he stepped from his cart to grab a soda from the impulse fridge right there. So I breeze past him, and go toward one of the empties in the far corner. He turns and grumpily points to his cart and gruffs, “the line starts here, buddy.” I did a double-check that there wasn’t anyone behind him, in case I missed that before, and kindly said, “there’s just us two dudes, and four empty registers; didn’t mean to cut, but I think we’re good.” He glanced around, realized that a bunch of people left between when he pulled up and right then, and gave a head bob with, “yeah, sorry; stressed.” Much kinder. I gave a “no worries” right back. Would have totally stood behind him if it wasn’t the case there were lots of open spots; wouldn’t have called out “hey, you stepped off” or anything. But, settle the gruff, guy.

Got home, put the things away, and got back into the afternoon meetings.

The Mucinex is working great, too.

Day’s not done yet, but the kids are already selling us on dinner and a movie. Should be a quiet night.

Everyone’s healthy, except maybe the dog. Not COVID-19, but something causing icky things to come out either end at different times.